


Unintended

by wolfwithwoodenteeth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Return to Me AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9583475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfwithwoodenteeth/pseuds/wolfwithwoodenteeth
Summary: It's Jon and Ygritte's first wedding anniversary. But nothing is the way it's supposed to be on that day.***The divorce papers look inconspicuous enough on his coffee table. He's smoothed them out and folded them again, even crumpling and almost shredding them a couple of times, meaning they practically look as if they could fall apart if he picked them up now.***Jon swallows and nods, almost forgetting the other man can't see him. "Aye, this is Jon Snow.""Mr. Snow, I'm Dr. Tyrion Lannister from Casterly Memorial. Are you free to talk?""I am.""I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Mr. Snow. Your wife has been in a motorcycle accident. She's been admitted to our E.R. a couple of hours ago. She's stable, but prospects are... bad. We need you to come here immediately."





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Jon and Ygritte's first wedding anniversary. But nothing is the way it's supposed to be on that day.
> 
> ***
> 
> The divorce papers look inconspicuous enough on his coffee table. He's smoothed them out and folded them again, even crumpling and almost shredding them a couple of times, meaning they practically look as if they could fall apart if he picked them up now.
> 
> ***  
> Jon swallows and nods, almost forgetting the other man can't see him. "Aye, this is Jon Snow."
> 
> "Mr. Snow, I'm Dr. Tyrion Lannister from Casterly Memorial. Are you free to talk?"
> 
> "I am."
> 
> "I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Mr. Snow. Your wife has been in a motorcycle accident. She's been admitted to our E.R. a couple of hours ago. She's stable, but prospects are... bad. We need you to come here immediately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My entry for Day 3 (Hearts) is going to be a multi-chapter fic. I'm afraid there's no Sansa in the first chapter yet, but we'll meet her in chapter two. I'll post the next chapters on the 'fill days'.
> 
> I don't have a medical background. Everything in this chapter is just based on things I've picked up watching House M.D., so I apologize for any mistakes.

When Jon comes home too early that afternoon, he tries to busy himself with task after chore, each of which, he convinces himself, is as urgent as the last. After he's finished with the most necessary ones, he starts inventing new ones. Putting his folded clothes into the closet shouldn't take more than five minutes, but he tells himself it's the perfect opportunity to sort every item by colour. It takes him half an hour, even if most of his clothes are black.

He moves on to the kitchen. He rinses a couple of mugs and glasses and the single plate he used the night before again even though he's already washed them before leaving for work early that morning. When he cuts himself on one of the glasses, gripping it too tightly while drying it, he sighs and turns to the living room, preparing himself for what he's been trying to avoid for the last two hours.

The divorce papers look inconspicuous enough on his coffee table. He's smoothed them out and folded them again, even crumpling and almost shredding them a couple of times, meaning they practically look as if they could fall apart if he picked them up now.

He still hasn't decided whether he should sign them, though they've been on that table for almost two months and he hasn't seen Ygritte in almost three. He's not even sure what it is he feels for her. He couldn't say if it's love, but he knows he's been madly _in_ love with her since that first day, drawn to the boldness and optimism which she approaches everything in life with.

With a shock he realizes they've only known each other for fifteen months. If anything, it has been a wild ride, and he has to admit he's had trouble keeping up with Ygritte a couple of times. Even though he's hardly been able to catch his breath during the year they've been married, he's enjoyed every day of it. It all came to an abrupt end three months ago, when he informed her of the decision he'd made.

_The words had barely left his mouth, when she started screeching at him, lunging forward as she did. "You're going to do what?!"_

_Jon stared at her. "I- I'm joining the army."_

_Ygritte huffed and poked a sharp finger into his chest. "Oh no, you're not, Jon Snow!"_

_He raised his eyebrows at her, taking a step back. "What's that supposed to mean?"_

_"I hate the army," she clarified. His face pulled into a frown. "What? Don't tell me you've turned into a pacifist now! I've seen you in more than one fight, don't give me that peace and love crap!"_

_She rolled her eyes at him. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. That's not the point! It's not the violence that bothers me. The army is an evil institution!"_

_He barked out a laugh. "Is it now?"_

_She gave him an incredulous look. "One word: interventionism! We shouldn't be sticking our noses into other people's business!"_

_He shook his head. "It's about helping people! Protecting the world from real threats! We have a duty!"_

_"You actually believe that, don't you?"_

_Jon gave her a single nod and Ygritte glared at him for a minute. "You've made up your mind then? Fine, I can't tell you what to do... But you can go and do it by yourself. We're done."_

_She whirled around and he reached out in shock, turning her by the shoulder to face him. "What do you mean, we're done? Can't we talk about it?"_

_"There's nothing left to talk about!"_

_"We're married, Ygritte! You can't just walk out on me like that!"_

_She laughed in his face. "Watch me, Jon Snow!"_

He hasn't seen her since. One day he came home to find a big, brawny fellow with an impressive orange beard standing next to the door to his apartment. _"Jon Snow?"_ the man grunted. Jon threw him a defiant glare. _"Who's asking?"_

_"Tormund Giantsbane. Gritte asked me to give ya these."_

He shoved the divorce papers into Jon's hands before turning around and leaving without another word. Jon sighs and picks up a pen, clicking it up to the point he's infuriated by his own fidgeting. He's startled by the sound of his phone ringing. He doesn't know the number and almost decides to ignore the call, but picks up anyway. "Hello?"

A male voice answers him, asking. "Mr. Snow? Jon Snow? Husband to Mrs. Ygritte Snow?"

Jon swallows and nods, almost forgetting the other man can't see him. "Aye, this is Jon Snow."

"Mr. Snow, I'm Dr. Tyrion Lannister from Casterly Memorial. Are you free to talk?"

"I am."

"I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Mr. Snow. Your wife has been in a motorcycle accident. She's been admitted to our E.R. a couple of hours ago. She's stable, but prospects are... bad. We need you to come here immediately."

Jon feels as if his heart has sunk through the sofa and floor under him and all the way to the basement seven floors below his living room. 

***

An hour later Jon is sitting by Ygritte's hospital bed, watching her still form. Her right arm and leg are twisted in an unnatural angle. He's gripping her other hand tightly, trying to force himself to feel something, anything, but his heart is still missing from his chest. His mind is in a haze and it feels as if he's been locked inside a bubble, separating him from the rest of the world. 

He smooths back some of her wild fiery curls from her pale face. She doesn't even look like Ygritte anymore, as if she's already gone. Dr. Lannister was blunt, but Jon supposes he would appreciate it if he was able to properly process anything right now. She's not going to make it. Her kidneys have shut down, no longer able to filter the toxins raging through her body because of her ruptured liver. 

" _But people get liver transplants all the time these days! And there's other things you could do for her kidneys, right?"_

Dr. Lannister sighed. _"Dialysis might help to clear the toxins from her system, but it can't repair the damage. And transplants have to be approved by a committee. They'll never give a liver to someone without kidneys. I'm sorry, Mr. Snow. There's nothing we can do."_

The doctor squeezed his shoulder, offering him a tight-lipped sad smile. Jon sat waiting for the tears to come, expecting to break down any minute now, but he only felt numb. He still does. _Today_ _'s our wedding anniversary,_ a voice in his head reminds him. He almost huffs at that. His mind wanders to the day they met.

_They were leaving the pub, walking back to the car. Sam tripped, probably over his own feet, and stumbled into Jon, sending him crashing into a skinny redhead. Before he had a chance to  apologize, the girl had whirled around and pushed him against the wall. "Watch where you're going, oaf!"_

_"I'm sorry, miss," Jon mumbled, "I didn't see you there."_

_She started studying his face, pulling back and letting her eyes travel lower to take in his body. "No need to call me miss, pretty boy. Name's Ygritte. What's yours?"_

Ygritte took him home that same night and Jon moved in with her two weeks later. A month later she proposed and they were married less than two months after that. Ygritte's motivations weren't necessarily romantic in nature, it was just he way she did things.  _Impulsive,_ Jon thought,  _and if she wants something, she goes after it._ She never bothers considering any decision from a long-term point of view. If she feels like doing something, she'll just do it.

She bought the motorcycle a few months after their wedding. She told him riding it made her feel free and truly alive.  _Oh Ygritte._ He warned her on a couple occasions that her desire for freedom might kill her someday, but it was supposed to be a bad joke, nothing more.  _"You know nothing, Jon Snow,"_ she answered him every time.  _I wish you'd been right, Ygritte._

He's pulled from his thoughts by a soft voice. "Mr. Snow?"

He turns around to see that another doctor has entered the room. She's very young. "Mr. Snow, I'm Dr. Tyrell. I am so sorry to bother you right now, but I need to do this."

Jon blinks at her. Dr. Tyrell hesitates for a moment. "I wish we could save your wife, Mr. Snow, but we can't... But her heart is strong. She could still save someone else's life."

He stares at the doctor, not understanding what she's trying to tell him. "As Ygritte's husband, you have to sign the papers concerning the donation of any organs, Mr. Snow. I know this is probably the last thing you want to think about right now, but I'm afraid the decision is up to you. I'll give you a couple of minutes to consider your options, but I must urge you, we don't have much time."

"No."

Dr. Tyrell inclines her head. "Of course, I understand, Mr. Snow."

He blinks at her again. "No, I only meant, I don't need time to think about it."

He turns back to Ygritte, smiling at the thought that she's lived her life to the fullest, imagining the world will be a darker place without her brightness.  _If they can't save her, at least one part of her should live on._ "You can take her heart, Dr. Tyrell. What do I need to sign?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

_**Three Years Later** _

**Sansa**

Sansa wakes up with a start and grabs her phone, furiously swiping the screen. She's going to be late. She's out of the bed and in the underwear and white skirt she carefullly picked ou last night.  _Good thing I showered before bed,_ she thinks as she crams some last items into her purse, at the same time brushing her teeth.

She goes through her facial routine almost blindly, only pausing to look in the mirror to apply her mascara. She keeps her eyes on her face, forbidding them to travel down to her exposed chest. She steps back and groans at the sight of her reflection. her hair looks as if a bomb has gone off in it, a mass of curls standing out in all directions.

She should have waited for it to dry before crawling into bed last night, but she was too tired. She takes another glance at her phone. Sorting her hair out could easily take half an hour. And  _God_ she could use some coffee. "Hair or coffee," she chants to herself as she's closing the buttons of her high-necked blue blouse, "hair or coffee?"  _Coffee,_ she decides. 

She's standing at the counter at Beanz, the coffeeshop on the corner of her street, waiting for her latte, when she suddenly feels a large warm hand on her shoulder. She turns around, looking straight into a pair of dark grey eyes. For a moment she sees a flicker of something she can't quite pin down in them, but it's gone as soon as she blinks. 

It quickly changes to confusion and then anger, she thinks. She tries to look away from his eyes, focusing on the rest of his face, which is pulled into a frown. She's seen him in here a couple of times before. He has dark curly hair, swept back to one side and he's wearing a grey long-sleeved shirt that's clinging to his well-muscled chest and arms. 

She's caught herself gazing at him once or twice before.  He is very handsome, if not her usual type. He is still staring at her, embarassment now apparent on his face. She closes her mouth and blinks again.  _He must think I'm retarded or something._ She clears her throat and asks: "Can I help you?"

He blinks as well and shakes his head. "No- I mean, I'm sorry. For a moment I thought you were someone else. My mistake."

His brow is furrowed again and he's clenching his jaw. "I hope you find her," Sansa comments. He glances up at her, a sadness taking over his face. "I'm afraid that's unlikely."

Sansa realizes her eyes are still glued to him. He opens his mouth and closes it again. "Listen, I'm really sorry. How about- Let me buy you a coffee."

"Oh!"  _Damn it!_ "That's so nice of you, but I already ordered one and I really, really need to run."

His face falls a bit when she says that, or maybe it's just wishful thinking. He rubs his neck. "Okay, I get it. Maybe I'll see you around."

She offers him a bright smile, hoping it can convey she hopes that's the case. 

Three hours later, Sansa is staring at her laptop screen, unable to focus on the article she's supposed to be writing on the opening of the new glutenfree bakery on Visenya's Hill. Her thoughts keep drifting back to the guy from the coffee shop. Dark and brooding really isn't her type, but there's something about him. Perhaps it's those deep, soulful eyes, or his full lips or the fact that he looks so good in a skintight shirt. She is biting her lip and twirling a lock of hair around her finger. _Seriously, Sansa, what are you, sixteen?_

She doesn't even know his name. She leans back in her chair, rubbing her temples. Technically, she doesn't need to stay in her office. She only had to come in for the meeting this morning, for which she arrived only just in time. She could go back to Beanz.  _No, you shouldn't._ It's not as if he'd still be there. Tomorrow is her day off, she goes there often enough to work on her novel. Perhaps he'll come back. She could take him up on his offer from this morning.  _I'm supposed to write 5,000 words tomorrow._ Publishing her first novel before her thirtieth birthday is on her bucket list. But so is starting a conversation with an attractive man.

 _You don't even know if he'll be there._ She sighs. She'll go to the coffeeshop tomorrow. If he isn't there, she can work on her novel. If he is, not reaching her aimed wordcount is far from a disaster. If he is there, she'll go and talk to him.

 

**Jon**

Jon closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. The Stokeworth case report is giving him a headache. The judge will follow his advice, he knows he's made the right decision, but that doesn't really make it any easier. Separating a child from its mother should never be easy. He saves the file and closes his laptop. Perhaps he should go for a walk first. He glances up and freezes. The door opens and in walks the gorgeous redhead he's caught himself staring at several times over the last few weeks. She's wearing a sleeveles grey turtleneck dress. He's noticed she never shows cleavage, but she's not afraid to display her long legs.

She's looking around the café, probably trying to find a good table and Jon tries to sink back into the wall. She must think he's an idiot or a creep after yesterday. In those first few months after Ygritte died, it used to happen more often. He'd see a flash of red hair or hear a voice that sounded like hers, and he'd draw in a sharp breath, his heart starting to beat faster and for a moment he would think it was her. It had been months, but yesterday it happened again. It was the messy red hair that did it this time. He'd never seen the girl like that, her hair was usually sleek and straight. He liked that wild look on her, especially combined with the way her cheeks were flushed pink.

Of course he blew any chance he might have had with her with his awkward bumbling.  _It's unbelievable,_ he thinks. He meets so many women in his line of work, but talking to a pretty girl off the job reduces him to the shy teenage boy he once was.  _It doesn't matter._ He's dated other women before, but he always ends up feeling guilty and disconnected. Even the few casual encounters he had felt wrong.

She's spotted him and for a moment she stands frozen in place, but then, to his surprise, she's walking over to his table. He can't help but take in the way her hips sway when she moves those endless legs, which are exposed from the ankles all the way up to her mid-thighs. He takes a gulp of air and tells himself to stop staring and meet her eyes.

She's standing at the other side of the table, lifting the strap of her purple bag higher over her shoulder and biting her lip. "Hi," she greets him with a shy smile. He tries to smile back at her and chokes out: "Hi."

The upper half of her body turns away from him, facing the counter. A blush is creeping up her cheeks. "I- I was really sorry that I couldn't stay yesterday and I- um- was wondering if your offer still counts?"

She's looking at him expectantly. He clears his throat. "Err- offer?"

She looks down at her feet and licks her lips. "Well- I think I remember you offering to buy me a coffee..."

He stares at her for a moment. "Oh, I did. Yeah, sure, I- ah"

"I mean- you don't  _have_ to pay for it," she cuts him off, waving a palm at him, "and I understand if you changed your mind. Maybe you were just being nice and - I don't know what I'm trying to say..."

Her cheeks are a dark pink now, making her deep blue eyes look even lovelier and a high laugh escapes from her lips. Jon blinks.  _Oh, she's nervous._ This beautiful girl is actually nervous about talking to him. Oddly enough, that calms his own nerves a bit. "I'd love to buy you coffee. I did offer, remember?"

Her shoulders relax and she offers him another smile. He gestures at the seat across from him. "I'm Jon, by the way."

"Sansa," she says, taking her seat and smoothing out her skirt. Her eyes fall on his laptop. "I hope I'm not interrupting your work."

He shakes his head. "I was trying to write a report, but I wasn't getting anywhere, so don't worry about it."

"What kind of report?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he admits, chuckling. "It's sort of confidential."

She raises an eyebrow. "I work for social services. Mostly kids in problematic home situations," he clarifies. Her lips part in surprise. "Oh wow!"

A girl with a platinum topknot bun comes to take their order then. Jon clears his throat. "What about you? I've seen you in here a couple of times. You seem to write a lot."

 _Nice one, Jon, you really should alert her to the fact exactly how much attention you've been paying her._ "I do, she says without hesitating, nodding enthusiastically. "I am a food writer. I write articles for Baelor Daily and I do some freelancing as well. And I'm also writing a novel."

"A novel? That's impressive!"

She's beaming. "It's on my bucket list."

 

**Sansa**

Sansa can't quite believe that she did it. She walked into the café and marched straight to his table and now she's talking to him. "Your bucket list?" Jon repeats, raising his eyebrows. His voice sounds skeptical. Their coffees are served, hers an almond milk latte and his a simple lungo, black. Jon pays the girl serving them, before Sansa can object. She bites her lip. "I used to think it was lame too, but I almost died and..."

She lets her explanation trail off, wanting to smack herself across the forehead for sounding so dramatic. She bites her lip. He's looking at her without making any comments, his face perfectly calm. "Well, what I mean is... For a while I wasn't sure I was going to make it to my twenty-fifth birthday. So when I was finally certain I was going to live, I decided I wanted to make the most of it. Hence the bucket list."

He lets out a low whistle. "Wow, that's..."

She giggles. "That's extremely personal information to be sharing with someone I just met, right? That's what you're thinking?"

"Not exactly," he answers, grinning. _He has a great smile._ "But I suppose you have a point. I'll take it as a compliment."

She grins back and focuses on her coffee for a moment, licking the foam from her lips. Jon is scratching his beard  when she glances up, leaning back in his chair. Sansa is distracted by the way his black button-up shirt is stretching over his chest and shoulders. She shakes her head and tears her eyes away from his body, looking up again. She notices his ears have turned red. "Have you lived in King's Landing for a long time?" she asks him.

"Almost two years now, I think," he answers. "But I moved to a different neighbourhood only two months ago."

They sit there talking for almost an hour, each ordering another coffee, which Sansa insists on paying. Eventually, Jon glances at his watch and frowns. "I'm afraid I have to go now. I have an appointment in twenty minutes."

She tries to read the hesistant look on his face. "Oh, okay."

He combs back his hair with his fingers. "It was really nice talking to you. I suppose I'll see you again one of these days. So, err, bye."

"Bye."

After ten seconds, she turns around in her seat. "Jon."

He stops and faces her. Her breath hitches.  _You've already covered point 8, Sansa, why not move on to point 9?_ What's the worst that could happen? "They sell more than coffee here, you know. Have you been to one of their Sunday brunches?"

He takes a step back toward her. "No, I haven't."

She swallows the lump in her throat. "You should try it sometime. Maybe this Sunday? We could try it together?"

He blinks and his face spreads into a grin. "I'd love to. It's a date!"

Sansa allows herself to take in the slight blush that appears on his cheeks at his reply. "I'll see you on Sunday then, let's say around ten?"

He nods, still grinning. "See you on Sunday."


	3. Chapter 3

**Sansa**

Sansa feels Margaery's eyes on her while she's cooking dinner and she can practically hear the questions taking form in her mind. She knows Marg is patient though, and she'll wait for the right moment to ask, enjoying the anticipation and the guessing.  _Perhaps not tonight,_ she thinks as she sets the plates down on the table. Marg is arching a delicate eyebrow at the grin Sansa can't seem to erase from her face, and she sighs, twirling her fork in the air. "Alright, San, spit it out!"

Sansa's eyes widen in mock-surprise and she assumes an innocent expression. Margaery rolls her eyes as Sansa takes a bite of sweet potato and chews diligently. She can imagine Margaery's reaction quite vividly and she suspects this quiet weeknight dinner will quickly turn into an interrogation once she tells her little secret, so she's determined to make Marg work for it. "How about you start by telling me his name? Do I know him?"

"No, you don't," Sansa muses, eyes on her plate. "His name is Jon."

"Jon...  _Just_ Jon."

"Just Jon," Sansa confirms. Marg huffs. "Where did you meet him?"

"Beanz."

Marg remains silent, making Sansa glance up at her. She's staring at her intently. "Well, did you talk to him?"

"I did."

Marg's fork clatters on her plate and she groans in frustration. "You're going to have to give me more than monosyllabic answers, Sansa Stark."

Sansa shakes her head, chuckling. "'I did' has two syllables, Marg."

"Barely," she retorts, "what does he look like?"

Sansa conjures up his face before her mind's eye, mentally trailing down to his arms and chest, her face pulling into a frown despite the hot blush on her cheeks. "Tall, dark and handsome, I guess."

"You guess... I thought you were all about blond hair, blue eyes and flashing smiles."

Sansa shrugs. "So," Margaery continues, leaning back and waving her fork again, "you talked. What did you talk about?"

"I don't know, all sorts of things. You don't seriously expect me to recite our entire conversation, do you? He was sweet and funny, a little shy perhaps, but nice, you know," she tells Marg, whose gaze is now boring into Sansa's eyes, as if she's trying to hypnotize her into revealing the really interesting parts. " _And?_ "

She tilts her head, playing innocent again. "And what?"

"Are you going to see him again?"

She tries to press her lips together to hide her smug grin. "I asked him out for brunch on Sunday."

Marg gasps, covering her cheeks with both hands, her eyebrows practically disappearing into her hairline. "You did not! So you have a date? Sansa Stark has a date! Are you excited?"

She puts down her fork and clasps her hands together. "I am... But..."

Marg leans over the table. "But what?"

She looks down at her hands. "I'm- I'm err, a little concerned," she admits, wiping some imaginary crumbs off the table, "about intimacy."

She meets Marg's questioning look. "Because of, you know," she tries to explain, gesturing at the scar between her breasts, peeking out from under her V-neck shirt. Marg shakes her head. "You worry too much, San. If he's going to stare at your chest, it's because he's appreciating the goods, hun, not because of a little scar."

She pouts as she peeks into her cleavage. "My _goods_ aren't that sizeable, but the scar is."

"Your goods are fine. More than fine, actually. You have great tits."

Sansa feels heat flushing in her cheeks as she rolls her eyes. "Thanks, I guess... But it's more than that. I hate it when they ask questions or when they look at me and I can see pity in their eyes."

Marg is shaking her head. "You can always worry about that later. Just try to enjoy it for now. Isn't that what you want?"

She nods in agreement.

 

**Jon**

Jon looks at his reflection in the bedroom mirror, running a hand through his hair. Black is always a safe choice.  _I don't know how to do this anymore._ He hasn't exactly been on any traditional dates in the last few years. It happened maybe once or twice, when Sam and Satin had set him up with a girl of their choosing, but he always started out without any expectations. In the end, it never led to anything. Today is different. Sansa is different. He has high hopes for this date. He takes a deep breath.  _Don't do this to yourself. It's too good to be true._

He's tried a few times, he really has, but it has never worked out so far. Rebekah was head over heels for him, but he never figured out what exactly it was he felt for her and she couldn't get over the fact that Ygritte would always be a part of his life. He met Dany in the support group for widows and widowers he'd joined on Sam's advice, but it was just too soon. It's been three years now, perhaps that's long enough to try again.

He catches his white Akita Ghost sneaking into the bedroom, trotting toward him, tail held high. He holds out his arms. "What do you think, boy?"

Ghost rubs himself against Jon's side, spreading white hairs all over his T-shirt and jeans. Jon clenches his jaw. "Alright, I wear too much black, I get it. Point taken."

Perhaps he's right. Sansa dresses in bright colours most of the time, she'll like seeing him in something lighter. He quickly changes into tan jeans and a pale blue button-down shirt. He pockets his keys, phone and wallet and heads for the hallway table where he's put the white roses he's bought. Ghost follows him cheerfully. He wonders whether the flowers are a bit much. He's dressed up for her and he's bringing roses. He doesn't want to come off as desperate. Rebekah would have liked the roses. He never bought Dany any flowers, so he has no idea how she would have reacted.

Ygritte's eyes would have grown a little moist before she mocked him for trying to be romantic and then she would have forgotten all about the flowers.  _Doesn't matter, doesn't matter._ He needs to stop comparing every woman he meets to her. He knows how detrimental it is to the possibility of anything developing between them. Sam has pointed it out to him on several occasions.  _"It's just not fair to any of those women. You've put her up on a pedestal and not one of them can compare to her. But that Ygritte you've created inside your head is not real, Jon. She never was."_

Sam is right. Sansa is gorgeous and smart and funny, and judging from the few things she's shared with him, she's been through enough. She deserves a real chance. He won't allow himself to think of Ygritte today. 

Sansa is already waiting for him outside Beanz when he arrives. He glances at his watch. He's ten minutes early. He wonders whether that means she's eager or if she's just very punctual. He hides the roses behind his back and forces himself to slow down to a casual pace. It's going to be a hot day. He won't make a good impression meeting her red-faced and sweaty.

She turns around and his jaw drops. She's wearing a white figure-hugging lacy dress, short but with one of those special rounded high collars. Her hair is pulled into a loose braid over her shoulder and she's wearing heels. But what does it, is her smile. He's not mistaken. Her whole face lights up when she spots him and he can't stop himself from grinning at her like a fool. Her eyes travel over his clothes and she asks: "No black or grey today?"

His grin widens as it sinks in that she must have been paying attention to what he was wearing for her to be able to make such a comment. Instead of saying anything he just offers her the roses. Her lips part in surprise and she takes them from his hand, burying her nose in them for a moment before glancing up and whispering: "Thank you."

They enter the coffeeshop, Jon holding the door for her and he lets her pick out a table. She carefully puts the flowers down on it and he makes a split-second decision. _She liked the flowers and she didn't roll her eyes when I held the door, so_...

He hurries to pull out her chair. She blinks at him, but sits down with a twinkle in her blue eyes. The first few words they exchange after that sound a little stiff to Jon's ears and they quickly fall into silence.  _Fuck. Think, Jon, think._ He's not one of those men who likes to listen to the sound of his own voice and he's never been good at smalltalk.

Sansa seems just as unsure of what to say as she sits there biting her lip, which is fucking distracting. "You look beautiful," he blurts out. A blush creeps up her cheeks and she averts her eyes, then glancing up again. "You look very nice yourself."

He's not sure whether she means it or if she just thinks it's the right thing to say. He clears his throat. "So," he starts, desperately trying to come up with something to talk about. They talked for close to an hour a couple of days ago, how hard can it be?  _What did we talk about?_ "How, um, how is that novel coming along?"

She frowns. "I'm making progress."

"You never did tell me what it's about..."

She sits up a little straighter and licks her lips. "Oh, it's sort of a coming-of-age story set in a fantasy world. My main character is a sheltered princess with very romantic ideas about how the world works. But then her life kind of falls apart and she's forced to change that outlook and she has to find her own way and such."

Jon can feel his shoulders relax. Getting her to talk about something she's passionate about seems like a good strategy. "Fantasy princesses and glutenfree cupcakes? You're full of surprises!"

She beams at him and shrugs. "So is the princess getting a happy ending?"

She purses her lips. "Not sure yet. She's become a bit cynical, but deep down she'll always be an idealist."

"Any autobiographical inspiration there?" he asks her, arching an eyebrow. She narrows her eyes at him but then smirks. "Perhaps... What do you think?"

He studies her face for a moment. Her blue eyes are glittering and her cheeks are slightly flushed again. Her fingers keep playing with the end of her braid and he wishes he could replace them with his own. "Yes," he decides, meeting her eyes, "definitely."

Their food is served then and Jon is sure Sansa was right that it's excellent, but he hardly registers what he's eating. Sansa is focusing on her plate for now and he sits back to watch her. She eats daintily, but seems to be enjoying her food. He hates it when women pretend they're not hungry because they're terrified of calories, but perhaps he shouldn't have worried about that; she writes articles about food after all.

 

**Sansa**

Sansa glances up from her plate to find Jon gazing at her. When she catches him, he offers her a small smile and looks down at his own food. This date is going well, despite the initial awkwardness in trying to start a conversation. It's so different from the previous ones she's been on. Jon is being a perfect gentleman, giving her flowers, holding doors and pulling out chairs, and complimenting her.

She isn't used to talking so much when on a date. In her experience, men mainly like to talk about themselves, but not Jon. He seems genuinely interested in her and he actually listens. He even referred to a comment she made about glutenfree cupcakes on Wednesday.

He looks up from his plate. "You know," he starts, "I've been wondering what's on that bucket list of yours."

She takes a sip from her coffee, contemplating her answer. It's a long list and nearly every number on it has its own story. "Sorry, too personal?"

"Yes and no," she muses, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve, "it's more that I don't know where to start."

"Alright," he chuckles, "I assumed you were willing to tell me anything after you revealed your near-death experience or whatever it was."

He holds out his palms, knife and fork still in his hands. "I'm not prying or anything! I was just- That was a bad joke, right?"

Sansa tries to give him an icy look, failing miserably as she feels the corners of her mouth pull up. She puts her spoon down and folds her hands under her chin, amazed at her own boldness. "Next time I see you, I'll bring the list and you can ask me all about it."

He blinks and leans forward, gesturing for her to mimic his motion. She does, puzzled by his request. "Does that mean there's going to be a second date?" he asks her in a low voice, as if it's a secret he's unwilling to share with the other people in the café.

"Only if you want to," she whispers back. She pulls back to see his face light up. He nods. "I'd like that very much."

Sansa starts feeling a little self-conscious when she realizes she's been claiming the conversation, something she's definitely not used to. "Tell me something about yourself."

Jon shrugs, chewing slowly. "There's not much to tell."

An uneasy feelings settles in her stomach. _Is this a red flag?"_ Everyone has a story," she insists. "You told me you're from the North... Why did you move down to King's Landing?"

He freezes, his jaw clenching and his shoulders tensing up. He looks down at his lap. "I couldn't go back, not after... Everything there reminded me of her..."

Her stomach churns. She opens her mouth, mentally debating whether she should encourage him to continue or not. He sighs. "I wasn't sure it was a good idea to tell you now, but I guess it's something you should know."

He looks up, his eyes far away and she nods, swallowing the lump in her throat. He reaches into his shirt and pulls out a thin gold chain, pulling it over his neck. He holds it out to her in his palm. She can see there's a simple ring on it. "I was married," he says in a flat voice, putting the chain back in place, tucking it into his shirt again, "but there was an accident and she... she didn't make it."

She has to blink back a couple of tears at his heart-breaking revelation. She didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't anything like this. "I'm so sorry, Jon. I cannot imagine what that must have been like," she whispers. Instinctively she reaches out to cover his hand with her own. "I'm glad you told me. If you want to talk about it, I'm here, but you don't have to right now. Whenever you're ready."

He meets her eyes and she smiles at him. He looks relieved as he squeezes her hand. "Thank you."

Jon takes her hand again as he walks her back to her building, holding it gently. His palm is warm and rough against hers and her heart skips a beat. It feels nice and comfortable, but at the same time it sends a flurry of butterflies through her stomach. When they say goodbye, he leans in to lightly brush his lips to her cheek. He walks away, holding on to her hand as long as he can until she reluctantly has to let it go.

When she enters the apartment, she finds Margaery and Robb sitting together on their sofa, her best friend with a huge grin on her face and a large bucket of popcorn in her arms, her brother with his arms crossed over his chest and a his brow furrowed. "I need details. Tell me everything," Marg demands. Sansa grins as Robb scrunches his nose, insisting _he_ doesn't need  _all_ the details.  _No, not all the details._ Some stories aren't hers to tell, but there's still plenty to share.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this fic is going to turn out to be longer than I thought. The big reveal and all the angst it's going to cause will be in chapter 6, I believe.
> 
> This chapter explores the further development of Jon and Sansa's relationship, so it has a bit of everything: Sam, Ghost, feelings!!! and some jealous!Sansa

**Jon**

"Gilly will be fine," Jon assures Sam. "She knew what she signed up for when she married you."

Sam nods. "She did, I just worry sometimes I'm asking too much of her."

He barks out a laugh. "I'm sure you'd know if she felt that way, Sam. I mean, Gilly's sweet, but..."

He tilts his head, giving his friend a knowing look. Sam grins back in agreement. "She loves you and she's happy for you, and so am I," he adds, raising his pint before finishing it.

He understands Sam's concerns about having his pregnant wife move from Oldtown to King's Landing now he's accepted the position at King's Landing University, but this is what Sam has always dreamed of. And it might be a bit selfish of him, but he's looking forward to having his friend close again. Lately there have been too many days when the only living creature he talked to was Ghost. He hopes that might change though, if he could spend more time with Sansa.

It's as if Sam is reading his thoughts. "So, how are things going with your lady friend?"

He arches an eyebrow. "My lady friend?"

"Your text was very vague," Sam shrugs. "You saw her on Sunday? How did it go?"

His face pulls into a frown. "Well, I think... At least, until... She asked me why I moved to King's Landing and I sort of just blurted out the truth. I don't know what I was thinking. That's definitely not something you tell a girl on a first date, right?"

Sam hesitates. "I guess honesty is good. How did she take it?"

He recalls the way Sansa's eyes teared up and how sincere her voice sounded. "She was sweet and she didn't give me that look. You know the one... But I don't think Sansa's actually able of not being kind? I don't know if that makes sense. She's- She's-"

Jon's eyes fall on his own hands, which are trying to emphasize words he cannot find. Sam is grinning, sipping his wine. "She hasn't had it easy. I think she was ill or something, but she's better now and she's- she's fucking gorgeous."

"What colour hair?"

"Red," he says and Sam's smile falters. Jon holds out his palms. "No! No, no, no! I know what you're thinking, but she's nothing like..."

His voice trails off as he takes in the skeptical look on Sam's face. _Good thing I didn't tell him about that first day._ Eventually his friend shrugs. "Fine, if you say so. Are you seeing her again?"

"I'm supposed to take her out Saturday afternoon. She told me to surprise her, but I have no idea what to do."

"You're overthinking this," Sam sighs, shaking his head. "If she fancies you, she'll be happy to be spending time with you. Keep it simple."

***

It's Friday and it looks like the weather's going to be lovely tomorrow. Jon decides to text Sansa.

_\- How's ur day going? Do u like dogs? :-)_

She replies within two minutes.

_\- Fab! :D Yours? I love dogs? :p_

_Definitely better now,_ he thinks, before shaking his head, a grin on his face.

_\- Great! Just checking ;-) Pick u up around 2? Wear comfy shoes..._

_\- Okay, I'm curious... Lol! See you tomorrow :D_

Jon taps his fingers on the desk. He hopes Sansa's expectations aren't too high. He's planning to take her to Dragon Gate Park. There are flowers and a pond. There's a market square where all kinds of trinkets are sold and a dog meadow for Ghost. It's a Saturday in the middle of summer, so there will be foodtrucks and street musicians. He thinks she'll like it, but he can't be sure. 

***

Jon's ten feet away from the door to Sansa's buiding when his phone buzzes.

_\- I'll be down in 5. Stay there if you want to avoid the inquisition._

His face twists, half-smirk, half-frown, but he decides to heed her advice. When she emerges from the double doors three minutes later in a lilac sundress, she looks around hesitantly, until her eyes find him, but they quickly settle on Ghost. "Ooooh," she coos, "who's this?"

"His name is Ghost," he tells her, "but I'm warning you, he's a stuck-up bastard. He'll probably ignore you for the first two hours."

She holds out a tentative hand so Ghost can sniff it and to Jon's surprise he does. He presses his muzzle into her hand and lets a grinning Sansa scratch his ear. She giggles when she glances up to see Jon's dumbfounded expression. "Traitor," he mutters, as Sansa loops her arm through his, making his heart stutter. "So, where are we going?"

He offers her a nervous half-smile. "You'll see," he promises and hesitates for a moment. "Who are the inquisition?"

"Oh, my brother and his girlfriend, who is also my best friend", she says, slightly shaking her head. She blinks at his questioning frown. "Trust me, I couldn't let you go in there completely unprepared. I was doing you a favour."

 

**Sansa**

Sansa gives Ghost one last firm rub to his upturned belly, before looking up to find Jon staring at her in awe. He shakes his head. "You have him wrapped around your little finger, don't you?"

She ducks her head, chin touching her shoulder, and bites her lip with a cheeky grin, catching herself before she can ask: 'You or the dog?' She closes her eyes and puts her palms flat against the grassy slope they've settled down on. She tilts her head back, enjoying the feeling of the sun's warmth and Jon's eyes on her. She has no idea where this confidence comes from, can't allow herself to believe it's all Jon's doing, but it probably is. It could be the way he looks at her when she's talking and how his smiles light up his solemn face. 

Perhaps it's because he seems so determined to ensure she's having a great time, without giving her the impression he's just doing it because he wants to get under her skirt. It might be the fact that he doesn't talk down to her and never ridicules her opinions, even when his expression tells her he disagrees.

He was disappointed she 'forgot' to bring the bucket list. He quipped that she'd given him the perfect excuse to demand a third date, but she couldn't tell him imagining him reading some of the things on that list had embarassed her to the point where her face had resembled an overripe tomato.

She risks a sideway glance, discovering he's inched a little closer, his fingers playing with a daisy not too far from her knee, his eyes on the pond and the people around it. A sudden ghust of wind blows her hair into her face, momentarily blinding and almost gagging her. Spluttering and shaking her head she pushes herself up to pull the strands from her mouth and feels Jon's hand on her collarbone. Her arm moves up of its own accord and her palm makes contact with his cheek.

She gasps as she takes in the splatch of red appearing on his stunned face. "There was a leaf in your... ," he attempts in an incredulous voice. "Jon!" she exclaims. "I'm so, so sorry! You- startled me! I-"

Jon is still staring at her in disbelief and Sansa is lost for words, so she does the most absurd thing she could do. She leans in and presses her lips to his. They are incredibly soft. She pulls back before he's had enough time to recover and respond. A cautious smile flashes across his face, before it shifts back to a confounded expression. He rubs his cheek. "Wow, err, Sansa. You- You're giving me an emotional whiplash."

She hides her face in her hands, peeking at him through her fingers. "I'm sorry, I- it's just..."  _Suck it up, San. You're going to have to tell him sooner or later._ "I had a heart- I had a heart..."

She lets go of her face, taking in Jon's encouraging nods, but at the last moment she chickens out. "I had a heartwarming dream about you!"

He blinks. "A dream? Or a nightmare?"

She shakes her head. "No! No! You were very..."

"Scary?" he suggests. "No, um, sexy!"

His eyes widen and his throat bobs up and down. "You... had a sex dream about me?"

"No!"  _Well, yes, maybe._ Her face must be as red as Jon's ears by now.

She decides to kiss him again, planting her hands on his shoulder, fisting the fabric of his blue shirt. He responds eagerly this time, moving his lips against hers and gently cupping her face in his hands. She parts her lips, flicking her tongue out to demand entry. Softly he sucks her bottom lip into his mouth, before allowing her to lick into it, then mimicking her actions. He tastes of the beer and tortilla crisps he had earlier. Before releasing her, he nips at her lips, then covering them again with his own to soothe the sting.

They part, slightly panting, and Jon caresses her hair as her hands slide down and back up his chest. Ghost chooses that moment to nudge Sansa's shoulder, sending her crashing into Jon, toppling him over and tumbling on top of him. They laugh together when their noses bump.

 

**Jon**

Sansa amazes Jon with her quiet strength and relentless optimism. The way she wavers between boldness and shyness confuses him, but he's totally entranced by it. She knows exactly what she wants out of life; it's all on her list. He listens to her explaining how she's planning to get it and he's easily convinced she could take on the entire world without as much as breaking a nail. The very next moment however she glances up at him with those innocent blue eyes before laying her head on his shoulder and he's taken aback by the sweet vulnerability of her gesture. 

Jon takes her bowling and she's horrible at it. When he points out she should keep her eyes on the little arrows on the lane instead of the pins and helps her adjust a weird, unnecessary flick of her wrist, she improves quickly though. After she throws her first strike, she jumps into his arms and presses a hard peck to his lips, blushing at her own elatedness. 

Sansa takes him to an art gallery and treats him to a passionate lecture about the composition, technique and meaning of the paintings in the exposition. When she realizes she's lost him, she patiently explains it again. He grins and pulls her into his arms to kiss her temple.

***

Jon is leaving his office on a dreary Thursday afternoon and falters when he sees Val leaning against her car, hair in a high ponytail, white leather jacket hanging open and a smirk on her face.  _This can't be good._ If she wanted to discuss a case she could have called or come during office hours. "Snow," she calls out, "care to go for a drink? There's something I'd like to talk about."

He fumbles for his keys, ignoring her while she's making her way over to him. When she's only inches away from him, too close, he pretends to be startled. "Oh, Val! I didn't see you there."

She huffs. "So, how about that drink?"

He grunts absentmindedtly. "Maybe some other time. I have to run now."

She starts talking about some case she's working on. Her sister Dalla reported the possible neglect last winter, when the twins came to school without a coat during the snow storms, but now it seems there's more to it. He's aware that's just a pretext though.

It has been almost a year, but they fucked a couple of times and that's probably what she's after again now. Jon ended it because every time left him feeling more empty afterwards. He simply stopped returning her calls, not even feeling guilty about it, because he knew it meant nothing to her. She's tried to renew their arrangement occasionally though and this is clearly another attempt.

He sighs, searching for a good excuse to get rid of her, not missing the way she keeps touching his arm. He opens his mouth to refuse her suggestion to discuss matters somewhere more comfortable, when he sees Sansa coming around the corner of the street.  _Fuck,_ he curses mentally as an uninvited image of Ygritte holding a pluck of brown hair in her hand and with blood under her fingernails flashes through his mind.

He shakes it off and turns his full body to Sansa, smiling and holding his arms open as he calls out her name. She steps into his embrace a bit stiffly, accepting a kiss on her cheek and nodding to Val. "Sansa, this is Inspector Mikaelson."

To his relief the two women are perfectly polite to one another as they exchange a few comments on subjects he fails to pay attention to, but there is an odd twinkle in Val's eyes and Sansa's smile may be a little too bright. After a couple of minutes, he clears his throat. "We should really go now, right San?"

Sansa nods and Val strides back to her car. Sansa disentangles herself from his arms as soon as she's out of sight and starts walking back in the direction she came from. Jon hurries after her. "I wasn't expecting you."

"That was obvious," she answers in a clipped voice.  _You should keep your fucking mouth shut, Snow._ "I wanted to surprise you," she informs him. A couple of minutes pass in silence. She comes to a sudden stop and faces him, eyes squinted into blue slits. " _Inspector_ Mikaelson?"

He blinks and nods. "Aye."

" _Please,_ Jon," she objects, rolling her eyes, "a blind man could see she was all over you."

 _Honesty is good,_ Sam's voice echoes inside his head. "It was a long time ago. It meant nothing."

She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting. "It clearly meant _something_ to her!"

He waits for her anger to explode, for her to start screeching or lunge herself at him, but it doesn't happen. She just presses her lips into a thin line, chin quivering. His shoulders relax and he lifts his hands to frame her face and kisses her. She pulls back in surprise. "What was that for?"

He grins at her. "You're adorable when you're jealous."

"I'm not jea-" she starts objecting, but he silences her with another kiss. He sighs and retreats to look her in the eyes. "I don't give a fuck what she wants, Sansa. She can bugger off and go and find it somewhere else. I only want you, sweet girl."

For a minute she refuses to meet his eyes, but then a watery smile graces her lips and she leans into his touch. He wraps his arms around her and holds her close. 

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get steamy in Jon's kitchen!
> 
> Sansa is a total minx and Jon talks dirty...

**Sansa**

"I didn't want to take any risks with these," Jon says holding out a pink cardboard box, "so I bought them."

Sansa chuckles, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Jon picked her up from work this afternoon. He brought her back to his surprisingly large and luxurious apartment. He told her that he owned the building, an unexpected inheritance from his absent father.

She was amazed that he was still working a day job, while he could easily live off the rent from the rest of the apartments. He shrugged it off, explaining that that was not how his mother raised him. She couldn't understand that Jon didn't seem to realize how wonderful he was.

He tried to cook for her, using his best friend's wife's recipe for her special spaghetti sauce. He let Sansa taste it and she told him it needed a little more salt. He turned around to follow her instructions and Sansa watched as his face contorted in horror when the lid fell off the saltshaker and its entire content landed in the sauce.

Jon stood frozen for a couple of minutes before he recovered enough to start tickling Sansa until she screamed for laughing at him. They ended up using a jar of store-bought sauce over the fusilli.

"Close your eyes!"

She covers her eyes with her hand. "No peeking," Jon warns her. She can hear him coming closer, opening the box. She feels the shift in the air as he holds it close to her face. "Guess," Jon says softly. Sansa leans forward, breathing in the smell of... "Lemon cakes! Oh, Jon, you remembered!"

She opens her eyes as Jon puts the box on the counter behind her and takes out one cake to present it to her. He breaks it in two and holds it in front of her lips. She accepts it, happily biting into it, and moans in delight. The cake itself is moist and light and the icing is creamy and tangy with little flecks of lemon zest in it.

When she glances up, Jon's pupils are blown wide and she can feel heat rising in her cheeks and pooling in her belly. He shakes his head, breaking the spell, and asks: "Are you happy?"

She nods as he feeds her another morsel of lemon cake. He frowns. "Really? I wanted it to be perfect, but then..." he lets his statement trail off, vaguely waving at the stove. "It was," she assures him. He kisses the tip of her nose before tucking the last piece of cake into her mouth.

There are still some crumbs and a blob of lemon cream left on his thumb and he moves his hand to his mouth to lick it off, but Sansa stills him with her own hand on his wrist. She closes her fingers around it, gently but firmly, and meets his eyes.

She doesn't know if it's the wine she's had or the low current in the air, but she leans in and closes her lips over the length of his thumb. He gasps as she presses her tongue to it, swirling it along to get every last bit of cream. She puckers her lips as she pulls them back over his thumb, all the while holding his gaze.

Suddenly she finds herself pinned to the kitchen counter by Jon's warm body as his hands card themselves into her hair and he starts attacking her mouth. Her own arms fly back to grip the counter for balance.

Their kiss is hungry, all teeth and tongue and before long Jon's lips leave her mouth to move along the line of her jaw to her ear. One hand is curled around the back of her neck as the other runs down her spine. She's been aching for this, to have his hands and mouth all over her. She starts clawing at his broad shoulders and tilts her head back, exposing her throat. 

He takes the invitation, dipping his tongue into the hollow at the base of it and moving up, sucking and licking. He nips lightly, just below her jaw, making her mewl. He laps at her pulse point next, before moving down again. He's getting dangerously close now and Sansa panics.

She grips his curls with both hands and yanks his head back up, crushing their lips together. When she seizes his bottom lip between her teeth, it's closer to a real bite than to a loving nip, but he groans and pulls her flush against him.

He splays his right hand against her back while his left travels down to the curve of her ass. Her skin tingles where his fingers trail over her bare thigh She wonders how the palms of his hands have become so deliciously rough. Suddenly he hooks her right leg over his hip, pressing his arousal against her core, rocking into her. She whimpers and pushes back, chasing the friction.

He moves her skirt up to her hips and to her surprise he steps away, lowering her leg to the ground again. His hand is warm on her thigh as he kisses her lazily. He pulls back to find her eyes, slowly trailing his fingers to the juncture of her thighs, silently asking for permission.

"Please," she moans and he quickly obeys. He starts stroking her through the lace of her underwear, moving his lips against her neck. Her clit is throbbing and she's soaking wet, so when he finally slips his hand into her undies, she's alreay incredibly close. He groans as his fingers slide easily between her folds, spreading her arousal. His voice comes out strangled: "Sansa, you're so wet."

She momentarily loses support as his hand leaves her back and she spots with heavily lidded eyes that he needs to give himself a squeeze. She grins and when his hand is back on the small of her back, she reaches out to cup his length and his balls. He feels big. He grunts something unintelligible and she closes her eyes again as she starts moving her hand up and down over his jeans.

His mouth stills, only shuddering out a hot breath. His middlefinger has rubbed her wetness over her clit and is circling it now, slowly increasing the pressure. She starts grinding her hips against his hand and soon a thousand stars explode behind her closed eyelids.

Jon flattens his hand against her core and Sansa presses into it to brace herself against the aftershocks pf her orgasm. He trails kisses along the line of her jaw until she's come down and her breathing has returned to normal. "What do you want now?" he asks her.

She grabs him by his ass cheeks to switch their positions. He huffs out a breath as she pushes him into the counter and start working on the button and zipper of his jeans. She takes a moment to study his face, his darkened, hooded eyes and his slightly parted, bruised lips.

She shoves down his jeans and boxers and his cock springs free. She was right, he is big. She closes her hand around his shaft to learn the feel of him and he bucks into her hand, his eyes fluttering closed. He's solid and hot, but silky to the touch. She rubs her thighs together at the thought of him inside her.  _Not now,_ she thinks.

She gives him a few slow strokes before leaning in to kiss him. Jon pulls her into his arms, leaning his forehead against her as she starts pumping her hand up and down faster. "Sansa," he pants. She lets her hand glide lower to trail her fingers over his balls and he moans.

She releases him completely and braces her hands on his chest to catch his attention. He blinks a couple of times before meeting her eyes and she grins at him, licking her lips. Slowly, she lets her hands slide down as she lowers herself onto her knees.

"Sansa," he whispers, "you don't have to..."

"But I want to," she tells him and he groans in anticipation. She wraps her hand around the base and parts her lips, glancing up to find his eyes still on her face. She inclines her head and closes her mouth over his length. He lets out a strangled cry.

She bobs her head up and down a couple of times before moving her tongue up to start licking him. She presses it to the underside of his cock and swirls it around its head. His fingers curl into her hair and begin massaging her scalp in an erratic pattern.

She hollows out her cheeks and settles into a steady rhythm, sucking and licking and moving her head up and down, as Jon's breathing grows harsher and louder. She feels a dull ache between her legs, so she moves a hand between her thighs to cup herself.

He's noticed what she's doing. "Do you like doing that? Does sucking my cock make your cunny drip, sweet girl?"

His question sends a shudder through her clit and she moans loadly, humming around his cock and making him sob. His hands pull at her hair. She does enjoy doing this. She likes the feel of and taste of Jon inside her mouth. Watching him come undone makes her feel powerful and she loves that she can make him feel this good.

She braces one hand on his muscular thigh and bobs her head up and down more vigorously, moving her tongue relentlessly. "Oh, Sansa! You have such a sweet, clever mouth, I love it! Don't stop... Please, don't stop!"

She doesn't. She can feel that he's close. One hand is still between her legs and she starts rocking her hips. "I'm going to come. I don't want to, I don't want this to end."

He does anyway and Sansa keeps sucking to work him through it, drawing her lips over his length slowly. She releases him with a loud pop and swallows the seed that's still inside her mouth. He stumbles back against the counter, but to her surprise he recovers quickly enough.

When she rises to her feet, Jon lifts her up and lays her down on the kitchen table. _Good thing we already cleared that._ He shoulders her thighs apart and kneels before her. Sansa whimpers as she takes in the grin on his face. He pulls her panties down and presses them to his nose, inhaling deeply.

She's never seen a man do that before. It makes her breath hitch. He lifts one leg over his shoulder and starts kissing his way up from her ankle to her knee, releasing a low growl. She puts her left foot flat on his other shoulder, leaning back on her elbows. "My turn," he announces. "Just lie back and relax, sweetheart. Let me make you come again."

His beard prickles the insides of her thighs as he nips at the soft flesh there. "I've been dreaming about this. I've been wondering what you taste like."

Sansa's head falls back and she closes her eyes. She didn't expect Jon to have such a filthy mouth. It's new, she's never had a man speak to her like that during sex and she realizes that she likes it very much.  _If he keeps talking like that, I might come again without him even touching me._

She won't need to though. His tongue is licking up her slit and he quickly finds her clit and closes his lips over it, starting to suck. He groans in delight, not unlike she did as she bit into that lemon cake. It sends delightful vibrations through her cunny and she mewls.

Her hands find their way into his hair and she pulls him closer. He chuckles and flicks out his tongue, pressing it against her clit. He starts swirling it along and Sansa's mind and body are caught in a haze of pleasure. She needs more friction and Jon is eager to assist.

He slides his hands under her thighs, moving her ass up so she can grind against his mouth. Her nails are digging into the table and her neck is arched back, the crown of her head touching the surface under her. Her toes curls against his shoulder and she can no longer control the sounds escaping from her mouth.

This isn't the first time she's had a man go down on her, but it's certainly the first time that man has any idea what he's doing.  _God, that feels good. I didn't know it could feel so good._

He's only using one hand to support her now his other has joined his mouth between her legs. He slides two fingers into her and the moment he crooks them inside her, all it takes is three more strokes before she explodes against and around him, a bright white light flashing before her eyes, ripples of pleasure causing her body to convulse.

He gently works her through it again and she squeezes her thighs shut.  _Too much, too much._ She slumps back against the table. She can feel Jon rising. He gathers her in his arms and tucks her head under his chin, softly stroking her hair. "Thank you, that was wonderful," she tells him, before confessing: "That's another point I can cross off my list."

She can feel the rumble in his chest as he barks out a laugh, but his tone is serious when he asks: "So you've never had a man do that for you before?"

"Oh, I have... But I've never had a man make me come like that before."

She pulls back to gauge his reaction. She thinks his smile looks more than a bit smug. "I'll gladly do it again, as often as you like," he promises. "I could get drunk off your cunt, sweetheart."

He smoothes back her hair from her temples, caressing her cheekbones with his thumbs. His gaze is so intense and sincere that after all they've done tonight, it's the look in his eyes that manages to make her blush. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of angst in this one, but there's a dose of funny Robb to make up for it...

**Jon**

Jon comes up behind Sansa as she's putting her heels back on, wrapping his arms around her waist and turning her around so she's flush against him. He nuzzles her hair and neck, inhaling the scent of her shampoo and perfume: peaches and citrus and roses. He brushes his lips over the shell of her ear, whispering: "Stay."

She tenses in his arms, only for a moment, but long enough for him to sense it. He pulls away to look at her face and catches her biting her lip. She leans in to kiss him, momentarily distracting him. When they break apart, she bends down to tie the strap on her shoe. "Please?"

She sighs. "I can't. I have to get up early tomorrow and I didn't bring any clothes."

He leans back against the counter and raises an eyebrow. "You don't need any clothes, I'll keep you warm."

Something close to apprehension or even fear flickers in her eyes and he regrets his words immediately. "I didn't mean, you know, not if you don't want to. I could just hold you or I could give you a T-shirt to sleep in."

She relaxes and closes the gap between them, smiling as she cups his cheek. "I know, Jon. And you don't have to apologize, but what I meant was that I didn't bring any clothes for the meeting tomorrow. I need to shower and I don't have a toothbrush or anything here."

 _You can shower here,_ he thinks. He could take her home tomorrow morning, wait for her to change clothes and do whatever she needs to do and then drive her to the office. He's sure he has a spare toothbrush. She could bring some clothes and toiletries here next time.

He doesn't tell her that though. He doesn't want to presume she's ready for that and he sure as hell isn't going to put any pressure on her. She steps into his embrace again and he holds her tight. She kisses him and it truly feels as if she never wants to leave his arms, but eventually she does.

After he's closed the door behind her, asking one last time if he really doesn't have to drive her home, he sinks down on the sofa, lying back rubbing his temples. Sansa never stays and they haven't- he's not comfortable saying they haven't fucked yet, because that's not what he wants to do with her.  _Well, I do._

Of course he does, but Sansa is the kind of woman a man should make love to. He wants to do things right, at least the first time. She deserves the best, romance and a nice dinner and candles and... Not that he thinks she'd owe him sex if he did that. It's just the way he'd like to do it.

He longs to see her naked and to be inside her. He barely dares to admit to himself all the ways he's imagined having her. He wants to explore her body with his hands and mouth and feel her, skin on skin. He wants to wake up with Sansa in his arms, so he can kiss her goodmorning and open his eyes to the most beautiful sight in the world. But he can't shake the feeling that she's trying to put all of that off.

He wishes he knew the right way to ask her about it, but he's afraid she'll feel as if he's forcing her to disclose things she isn't ready to share. Or worse, that he expects her to take steps she doesn't want to take. Yet.

Still he can't help but wonder. She's never undressed completely in front of him. She always seems eager to give head and she definitely enjoys him eating her out, which puzzles him even more. In a way those things are more intimate than simply fucking, but maybe women feel different about that.

Still, with all the other women he's been with, it practically happened on the first night or soon enough after to make little difference, except when nothing ever happened. And except for Rebekah, but he's loathe to compare Sansa to her. He doesn't really have any experience with women like Sansa. He always considered them out of his league.

 _Perhaps it's my fault._ He can't tell whether he's doing anything wrong exactly. She hasn't voiced any complaints. He finds it surprisingly easy to talk to her now most of the time and he's proud of himself for opening up to her. They haven't really discussed Ygritte much yet, but Sansa understands it's a difficult subject.

 _Maybe,_ a small voice in the back of his mind points out,  _just maybe that is the reason she's hesitant to become too intimate._ Perhaps she doesn't want to give her heart fully to a man who might not be completely hers. It's not as if he can forget Ygritte though, but maybe that's just too much for any woman to deal with.

Somehow he falls asleep and when he opens his eyes, it's dark in his living room except for what must be a hundred candles. He sits up to soft music playing in the background and there's a bottle of wine on the table. He hears the lock on the door click and to his surprise it's Ygritte who walks in, wearing jeans and a tank top.

Jon sits up and watches her. She huffs and looks around the room. "It's hot in here," she remarks. "Can't you put some of those candles out?"

He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. "Aha," Ygritte chuckles. "You didn't do this for me, did you? Course not. This is all for  _Sansa."_

He clenches his fists, pursing his lips. He doesnt like the way Ygritte says her name. She walks up to him and sits down on the table. "She's nothing like me, is she? Has it ever occurred to you that we might have been wrong, Jon Snow? Maybe I was wrong for you. I wanted you and I loved you, but I never needed you. I think _she_ does."

 _No, Sansa doesn't need anyone._ Ygritte smirks. "There's needing and needing. You know nothing, Jon Snow. You don't even know what _you_ need."

 _I need her._ "You do. I could never be what you needed, but I think she can."

Jon wakes up in the dark, groaning. He sits up to rub his aching neck. "I don't need your approval," he announces to the empty room.

 

**Sansa**

Sansa doesn't know which one is looking more ridiculous right now, her brother or her best friend. Robb has his arms crossed in front of his chest, face pulled into a frown and eyes hard, which he assumes is appropriate for an older brother meeting his little sister's boyfriend for the first time.

The look on Margaery's face on the other hand can only be compared to that of a child that has just been told she can take whatever she wants in a sweet shop. Sansa rolls her eyes, fiddling with her bracelet as she tries to ignore them.

Marg takes a seat beside her and nudges her bare shoulder. "Nice colour on your nails," she remarks. "I bought it yesterday. It's called 'Primrose & Proper'. You can borrow it if you like."

She chuckles. "No thanks, I don't do pale pinks."

She looks around the room for a minute. "Why the large bag?"

Sansa feels the corner of her mouth quirk up.  _That's what you've been dying to ask for the last half hour?_ "So I could fit in some underwear and a toothbrush and..."

"Ha! I knew it!" Marg exclaims, while Robb chokes on his beer before asking in an incredulous voice: "Have you shaved your legs?"

Sansa chortles. "What sort of a question is that?"

He shrugs. "Isn't that what Mya said?"

"Wait, what? You're trying to help me protect my virtue by advising me not to shave my legs?"

"I'm afraid that ship has sailed, lover. Sansa lost her virginity ten years ago."

Robb closes his hands over his ears. "Too much information, Marg!"

Sansa grabs her friend's wrist, blinking to prevent tears from brimming her eyes. "Oh poor brother, have your illusions over my innocence been shattered?"

The expression on Robb's face is far from amused, which isn't helping either of them hold back their giggles. "As long as this  _Jon_ keeps things innocent with you," he threatens. Before she can think, Sansa blurts out a confession: "Too late."

Fat tears start rolling down Margaery's flushed cheeks. Perhaps this was not the right time to inform Robb about the physical nature of her relationship with Jon, but it's something that happens sometimes when she's nervous. They are all startled by a knock on the door. "How do I look?"

"Stunning," Marg says at the same time Robb grunts that her skirt could use a couple of extra inches. He moves to open the door. Jon's lip twitches when she spots his face over her brother's shoulder which probably means he's giving him his protective-brother glare.

Luckily, Robb is perfectly polite and she can tell by the way his nostrils quiver that he's struggling to maintain his stern impression. Sansa smiles.  _He likes Jon._ But Margaery has gone rigid by her side. Before she can ask what's wrong, Robb and Jon move further into the room. She's never seen him in a suit before. When her heart skips a beat, she can feel it between her thighs.

Jon's lips part in surprise when he sees Margaery. "Dr. Tyrell? This is unexpected."

"Mr. Snow. Nice to see you again under more pleasant circumstances."

Sansa raises her eyebrows at their formal exchange. The air in the room has suddenly become thick. She gets up to give Jon a quick peck. His eyes glide down and back up again. "You look radiant," he whispers, low enough so Robb and Marg can't hear. For a moment she's lost in his adoring gaze, but then she clears her throat. "Um, I think we need to go. We're running a little late."

"Which means they'll be there twenty minutes early," Robb mutters in the background. "When you're ready," Jon answers. She picks up her clutch and bag lets him lead her out of the room. When they're in the elevator, he eyes the bag and she offers him a grin in return. After a minute, she remembers to ask: "Where did you and Margaery meet?"

He blinks. "Oh, she was, err, she was working at Casterly Memorial when, you know, Ygritte..."

He lets the rest of his explanation trail off. He doesn't like to say it. Sansa just nods. "Must be weird to see her again now."

He sighs. "Tell me about it."

***

Sansa closes her eyes at the fresh air hitting her flushed face as they're leaving the restaurant. "If I had known it was this good, I would have taken a plane to Oldtown ages ago!"

Jon chuckles as he drapes his arm over her shoulders. "Luckily, now that he has the new place here, you don't have to anymore. We can come back whenever you like."

She shakes her head. "You can't be serious, Jon. This must have cost a small fortune!"

He stops and turns to her, lifting her chin up with his thumb and forefinger. "I'd gladly give away all of my money to see that look on your face."

Her head is spinning. She's pleasantly drunk off the wine and Jon's words and the look in his eyes. He leans in to capture her lips in a slow kiss and she allows herself to drift off in the moment, feeling as if she could fly right now if she pushed her feet hard enough.

They're startled by the sound of her phone buzzing. She sighs and fumbles for it in her clutch. Jon's brow pulls into a frown. "What's wrong?"

"It's Marg," Sansa sighs, "she's- I have five missed calls and two messages."

"What did she say?" Jon asks, the creases in his forehead deepening. "I don't know. It's all very vague... Wait, there's a new message."

 

_\- You know what? Scratch that, just come home asap. I need to tell you now._

 

Sansa shakes her head, blinking rapidly. "You alright?"

"I, err, I don't know."

"Do you want me to take you home?"

She looks up at him and nods. He tries to hide it, but she can see the disappointment on his face. "I'm sorry, Jon."

He pulls her in for a hug. "It's okay, your friend needs you."

***

Sansa throws open the door to the apartment, for once not caring about the neighbours or propriety.  _This better be good._ She feels bad as soon as she sees Marg sitting at the dining room table in her jade green kimono dressing gown, head in her hands. When she uncovers her face, Sansa sees she's also wearing her serious doctor's expression. "I'm sorry, San, I lied to you."

"What?"

Marg just holds up a blue file and hands it to Sansa. She opens it and her eyes find a picture of a skinny young woman with messy red curls, thin lips and a pug nose. Her eyes skim the page for anything familiar, but she can't find it, so she returns to the top, where the woman's name is stated.  _Ygritte Wallace Snow._ She blinks. It's not exactly a common name. And indeed, a few lines below, the file reads:  _Spouse: Jonathan Benjamin Snow._ "Why do you have a medical file of Jon's wife?"

A whirlwind of emotions passes over Margaery's face, too quickly for her to decipher. "Remember when I told you I didn't know who it was? That the system's defences were too difficult to bypass? I lied."

Marg meets her eyes and sighs. "I lied, because I already knew who it was."

 _No. No. No._ She starts pacing the room, the file still in her hand, until she sinks down on the sofa and drops it as if it has burned her fingers. "No," she chokes out, her voice trembling, "no."

Marg rises from her seat and sits down on the coffee table in front of her. Sansa blinks again and searches her face. "No, this must be a mistake," she says, more firmly now, "please, Marg, there must be a mistake."

She takes her hand and offers her a sad smile. "I'm afraid not, San. I was there. I was the one who asked him to sign the papers. I knew it was him the moment he walked in."

 _This can't be happening._ She remembers Jon's words.  _There was an accident, and she didn't make it._ The doctors had told her the woman whose heart she was getting had died in accident and that her husband had decided to give her heart up for donation. But there were so many people who died in accidents. Plenty of young women with husbands. And Jon never told her about the heart.  _Neither did you._ "Marg..."

Her head is spinning again, but it feels far from good now and her voice sounds like that of a stranger. It begins with a silent sob, but after a few moments tears are flowing down her cheeks and she's ugly-crying her make-up all over her pretty dress, which makes her bawl even louder. Marg offers her tissues and keeps smoothing her hair back from her face. Suddenly, Robb's sleepy head appears in her line of sight, a look of horror slowly forming on his face as he takes in the scene before him. "What happened?" he tries, before adding in a poor attempt at a joke: "Who died?"

His words draw a wail from Sansa throat and she yelps: "Jon's wife!"

Her brother shakes his head, balling his fist as if he's ready to fight someone. "Hang on, what are you telling me? That guy you're seeing is married? What a blockheaded asswipe!"

"Robb!"

He pulls his jacket off the chair where he deposited it earlier and shrugs it on, broadening his chest and squaring his shoulders. "I'm going over there right now!"

"Robb!" Sansa cries again. "Please don't!"

He stares at her. "Why not? Don't tell me you're trying to defend him!"

"Robb!" Marg warns him. "Would you please listen for a moment?"

He nods. "Alright, I'm listening. What's going on?"

Marg must have lost her patience by now. "Sansa has Jon's dead wife's heart!"

"Oh," Robb answers, clearly not understanding yet. " _Oh,_ " he says again, realization dawning on his face. "But he isn't married?"

Sansa rolls her eyes. "No, Robb!"

She stares at him, mouth hanging open, as he puts the jacket back on the chair and disappears into the bedroom.  _Thanks for the support._ She takes a deep breath and turns back to Marg. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

"I'm sorry, San," she says, squeezing her hand, and it sounds sincere, "but I thought you had the right to know. And so does he. I think you should tell him."

 _Yeah, sure._ How is she supposed to do that?  _Oh, by the way, Jon, I had a heart transplant I haven't told you about yet and that heart in my chest used to be Ygritte's._ That sounds about right. Thinking her name conjures up the picture before her mind's eye. At least they don't look alike, except for their hair colour.  _For a moment I thought you were someone else._ She thought she'd forgotten his words, but they come to her now anyway.  _He thought I was her._ What if that's what he's still thinking? What if... Dread clutches her heart as her eyes widen in horror. She grasps both of Margaery's hands. Her voice is nothing more than a whisper. "Maybe he already knows."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa tries to shield herself and Jon lets his temper get the better of him...

**Sansa**

Sansa closes her eyes, as if it will somehow help her tune out the sound of her phone. She leans back against the pillows and tugs her fluffy pink dressing robe a little tighter around her shoulders. Her tongue is swollen from all the chocolate she's consumed and her head is starting to throb as she's coming down from the sugar rush.

The sound of Margaery's voice is coming closer. "If I have to hear that insufferable Jonquil ringtone one more time, I swear I'm-"

Sansa doesn't find out what Marg is going to do. She's standing frozen in the doorway, hands on her hips and eyes slightly narrowed, before her expression softens. "What happened?"

Sansa shrugs and Marg exhales through her nose. "Have you talked to him?"

She looks down to avoid her friend's eyes and shoves another piece of chocolate into her mouth. "Sansa!"

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "Then why have you decided to become a chocolate-addict hermit?"

She shrugs again. "Because," she mumbles. She knows she sounds like a child, but she doesn't care. She tries to get up as she sees Marg snatching her phone from the dressing table. "He's tried to call you seven times today, San, seven times!"

She huffs out a loud and exaggerated sigh. "So?"

Marg comes closer and sits down on the bed. "So he has no idea what's going on and he's clearly worried?"

She frowns at Sansa's phone. "You have a text.  _Hi, just trying to check up on you. I hope Margaery's okay? Please let me know if everything's alright?_ _Miss you._ Seriously, San. This is the most perfect text a man can send you in this situation."

Sansa doesn't answer, she just lets her body sink deeper into the pillows. "That's it, I'm texting him back. I'm telling him you're coming over tonight."

She veers up, clawing at her phone in Marg's hands. "No, Margaery, no!"

She's on her feet again, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring. Her delicate features make her expression even more fierce. "You have to talk to him!"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "No, I don't. It doesn't matter anyway. It's just not meant for me."

Marg is next to her in a moment, grabbing her arms. "Listen to me. That man adores you."

She sniffles. "Does he?"

No man has ever loved her. She was aware of that in most cases, but some fooled her into believing it. Sandor only loved her innocence, because it was a thing he could corrupt if he wished to or on the contrary a chance at redemption if he wanted that. Harry only loved fucking her and parading her around.

All men were looking for something, but never for her. With Jon, it should have been clear from the start.  _You're a stupid girl, Sansa._ "He just wants to replace her," she whispers hoarsely. Marg slaps her hands on her knees. "How can you be so sure?"

"It's the most logical explanation!"

"Why?" Marg asks, smoothing her hair back from her face. "Don't you think it's poetic? Romantic?"

She pulls away from her friend's arms. "It's not, Marg. I don't believe in that crap anymore. He just wants me because there's a part of her inside me."

Marg pushes herself to her feet, throwing up her arms. "You don't know that," she exclaims. "I told you: he seemed genuinely surprised to see me here. You know what the real problem is, Sansa? You've always been afraid of confrontations. You try to avoid any form of conflict at any cost. But how can you ever get something real if you run as soon as things don't go as smoothly as you want them to?"

Sansa hugs a pillow to her chest and glares at her. "Things were going just fine until you decided you had to tell me."

Her mouth falls open and her voice is softer. "San, you know why I told you."

She takes a deep breath. "I do. But perhaps you shouldn't have."

 

**Jon**

After four days without hearing from Sansa, Sam tells him to give it a little more time, but Jon can't resist spending almost as many hours at Beanz as he does at the office. He's there every day from seven till nine, coming back by three or four and on Wednesday he cancels three appointments and a meeting to hang around the coffee shop all day.

He mentally curses himself for being so pathetic. He wonders if it can still be considered stalking if she's never there. After a week he gives up, no longer able to deny it. She's avoiding him. If she doesn't want to see him, he's not going to be that desperate guy who keeps trying to run into her.

Until he does, completely unintentionally and almost literally. He's walking Ghost, when she almost crashes into him rounding a corner during her morning jog. He can't help himself, his face spreads into a grin and he whispers her name. Hope must be as obvious in his eyes as it is in his voice, but she bolts and he can only watch her take off into the distance.

He really didn't see this coming. He never expected Sansa to pull such a move on him. For two whole days he manages to convince himself to back off, torn between pride and insecurity. In the end it's anger that conquers all his other feelings. He drives straight to Sansa's building to demand an explanation. 

It's Dr. Tyrell - _Margaery-_ who opens the door. "Um- hi," Jon greets her. "Well, hello there, Jon. Sansa's not here, but I think she'll be back in less than an hour."

 _Oh._ "Thanks," he mumbles, not sure what effect another hour will have on his resolve. "Oh, err, how are you- are you alright? Sansa seemed worried the other night."

She offers him a smile, shaking her head. His face pulls into a puzzled frown. "Thanks for asking. There, um, was an emergency, but it's all better now."

"Glad to hear that," he answers, because he doesn't know what else to say. Her explanation sounds a little off, but he supposes it's probably none of his business anyway. He clenches his teeth before meeting Margaery's eyes. "Look, err-"

"Call me Marg."

He nods. "Marg, I honestly have no idea what's going on and I'm fucking going insane over here."

She closes her eyes and sighs before addressing him: "It's Sansa you should be talking to, Jon, not me."

He bites the inside of his cheek. "I know that, but I don't think  _she_ wants to talk to me."

She tilts her chin in a hesitant gesture and shakes her head.  _Fine,_ _I see._ He's about to turn around and leave, when she adds: "I think she really likes you, Jon, but she's just confused right now, and insecure. She-"

Suddenly she stops. "Please," Jon begs her, "I don't understand. What did I do wrong? Help me out here?"

Her mouth curls into sad smile. "I'm sorry, I've already said too much. You two need to figure this out on your own."

 _Yeah right._ "Would you like to come in and wait?" Margaery asks him. He shakes his head. "No thanks, I think I'll try to run some errands in the meantime."

He doesn't, he just walks around Sansa's block again and again, working himself into a state.  _I should have brought Ghost._ It's not exactly helpful, but he supposes it's better than pacing around her living room. After forty minutes, he heads back to the entrance. When he spots her, he tries to conceal himself so she doesn't get another chance to walk away from him.

She looks as lovely as ever, dressed in blue and with her hair flowing down her back and shoulders in loose waves. He shakes his head. He can't allow himself to be distracted by that. She's only a foot away from the door when he reveals himself. She flinches when she sees him, breath hitching.

"What are you doing here?"

He clenches his fists. His voice sounds oddly calm. "You're not leaving me much of a choice, are you? You don't return my calls and you never reply to any of my texts. Am I supposed to just be okay with that?"

Her lips part slightly and she squints her eyes, before pursing her lips. "I just needed some space, Jon."

 _What the hell?_ _Why?_ He can't pretend to be calm anymore. "So you just decided to completely ignore me for weeks? I was worried about you!"

Her eyes are closed and she's biting her lip. "Look, what we had was nice. We had fun, but perhaps it's better if we end it now."

He snaps. " _Fun,_ Sansa? That's it? You were just-"

His right hand is looking for something to grasp and he settles for the lamp post behind her, while his left is clutching at thin air. "You were just using me to tick off some boxes on that fucking list of yours, is that it?"

To his surprise she lunges forward until their faces are only inches apart. " _I'm_ using  _you?_ That's rich!"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Tell me, Jon," she starts in an icy tone that almost makes him cringe. "What do you see when you look at me?"

He blinks at her, mouth hanging open. She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Let me put it differently. That first day in the café, when you mistook me for someone else, who did you think I was?"

His mouth has suddenly gone dry. How could she possibly know that? Her eyes are cold. "Look me in the eye and tell me you did not think I was Ygritte."

He backs away from her. He can't. "Yeah," she says, biting her lip and nodding, "that's what I thought."

He tries to reach out to her. "I'm sorry, Sansa, but it doesn't mean anything. It only lasted a moment, it was just... Your hair and..."

He doesn't know how to explain it. She's shaking her head now, eyebrows raised. "Just my hair?"

He frowns at her skeptical tone. "What else could it be?"

She studies his face and her eyes widen as her hand comes up to cover her mouth. "Marg was right. You don't know. You really don't know."

 _You know nothing, Jon Snow._ He waits, looking at the confused mix of emotions passing over her face, while her eyes dart around, never settling on his face. "I'm so sorry, Jon. I shouldn't have assumed. I..."

He doesn't want to beg, but he needs to know. "Please. I don't understand. What's going on?"

She finally looks up at him. "Three years ago," she whispers, "I had a heart transplant."

His own heart lurches in his chest, though he's not sure why. Sansa's voice seems to come to him from a distance. "I didn't know who it was, Jon. I swear I didn't know, but Marg did and when she saw you..."

A strange weakness has taken over his limbs and it's as if he's stumbled into some weird dream.  _No, don't say it. This can't be true._ He can't see anymore, there's only her voice. "I have Ygritte's heart, Jon."

For a moment his eyes regain their function and they settle on her face. He can't read it. "I- I can't," he hears himself say. "I, err, I have to go."

His legs start working again and he turns around and runs.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has a lot of feelings, Sansa makes a decision and Sam and Oberyn are the love doctors!

**Jon**

"Wow," Sam manages, blinking and shaking his head in disbelief, "just wow. That's... I- err... That's..."

Jon sits staring at the pond in Dragon Gate Park, elbows on his knees and head bent down as his friend tries and fails to articulate his thoughts on the revelation that Sansa has Ygritte's heart inside her chest. "Fucked up," he suggests, "absurd, the most inconceivable crap you've ever heard? Life kicking me when I'm down, cackling while it's at it?"

Sam raises an eyebrow. "You're being overly dramatic, Jon."

He shrugs. "Probably... But what did you expect me to do, Sam? Whoop and do a happy dance?"

"I don't think I've ever seen you whoop and do a happy dance, no," Sam chuckles, "so I wouldn't expect anything of the sort, even under the best of circumstances, but perhaps you could try talking to her? Figure out what this means?"

He's not sure he's ready for that and he knows Sansa definitely isn't. She avoided him for weeks, afraid he only wanted her because she carried a piece of Ygritte with her and he has no clue how he's ever going to be able to convince her otherwise. "It's just not fair, man. I thought I was finally moving on, ready to start something new and..."

He stops there. He doesn't know how to explain to Sam what it feels like to believe he's finally falling in love again, truly falling in love with a woman for the person she is, not with the notion that she might be able to fill the hole in his heart or with all the possible forms of comfort she could offer him, only for that belief to be torn away so abruptly and cruelly, almost sending him back into that black hole he'd fallen into three years ago.

"A heart is just a heart, Jon," Sam sighs, "nothing more than an organ. Quite a vital one, I'll admit, but, contrary to popular belief it has nothing to do with emotions. Love is all inside your head, mate."

That's the scientist in him talking. Jon can't help the smile tugging up the corners of his mouth, because he realizes what his friend is doing. He's momentarily denying his own more romantic notions to comfort Jon. It's difficult to ignore all the symbolic connotations though. "What if I'll never be able to look at her again without seeing..."

He cannot even finish his question, irrationally dreading he might jinx it, as if speaking it aloud might turn his fear into reality. He waits for Sam's answer, unsure whether he wants his friend to appease him or not.  He looks up to see Sam frowning and rubbing his beard.

"Well," he starts slowly, "you said Sansa was nothing like Ygritte. And I guess there's really only one way to find out..."

He takes a deep breath and nods. Sam is right, he usually is, but following his friend's advice is probably the most terrifying thing he could do.  _How do you jump into the deep if you don't know if your wings will unfold before you hit the ground?_ "I think I need a little more time, Sam."

 

**Sansa**

"Thanks for dropping me off," Sansa mumbles into Margaery's hair as she's hugging her. She takes a deep breath as Marg pulls back to look at her.

"Are you sure you're making the right decision?" she asks her again.

Sansa nods. "I'd been planning to make this trip anyway. And I can really use a break right now."

"Okay then. Loras will be there to pick you up. Oberyn said you can stay as long you like."

Marg sighs and offers her a smile before biting her lip. "What if...?"

She doesn't need to finish the question for Sansa to understand who's she's talking about or what she's trying to ask. "He won't."

"But what if he does?" she counters, rolling her eyes.

"What?" she huffs, raising her eyebrows. "You think he's going to fly all the way to Dorne to come and run after me? Life is not a romantic comedy, Marg!"

She glares at her friend's expression. "Fine! If he comes by, you can give him the address, but don't tell me! I don't want to get my hopes up!"

***

"Good riddance," Loras grumbles when Sansa finishes her story. She's not even sure why she's told Margaery's brother and his partner about her relationship with Jon and their disastrous parting, but she feels relieved. It's such an incredible tale she can hardly believe it herself. Perhaps sharing it might actually help her process all of this.

Oberyn punches Loras in the shoulder, making him cry out: "Ow, what was that for?"

"That was for being such a cynic," Oberyn explains, before lowering his head to press a kiss to the other man's shoulder. "And this is because I still like you, regardless of your many flaws."

Sansa smirks and tilts her head back, enjoying the feeling of the sunlight on her face. They're all sitting by the side of Oberyn's garden pool, their feet in the water and blood orange screwdrivers in their hands. "You," Oberyn continues and Sansa looks up to see him pointing an accusing finger in her direction, "you are being a ninny, Sansa Stark."

Her mouth falls open. "What? Why?"

Oberyn shrugs. "So he's loved before? Big deal! Who hasn't? When love comes into your life, you shouldn't question it, just enjoy it!"

Sansa takes a sip from her cocktail and purses her lips before muttering: "It's not that simple!"

"It's not," he admits, "because you are making it more complicated than it is."

"To be fair, Oby, the situation is rather unusual," Loras objects.

Oberyn sighs and waves him off. "Love comes in many forms, but your Jon has the courage to love you after having loved and lost before. I think you don't realize how lucky and special that makes you!"

She stirs the ice in her cocktail around. She hasn't really thought about it that way. Still she's convinced that even if ignoring Jon for weeks hadn't driven him away from her, the revelation about Ygritte certainly has. He literally ran away from her when she told him.

She bites her lip. "Does it matter? I think he's not over her. Perhaps it's not even possible for him to really move on. How do you do that when the person you love didn't just leave you, but was taken away from you like that?"

"Sounds like too much risk of heartbreak to me," Loras comments before putting his glass down and diving into the pool. 

"Don't listen to him," Oberyn smirks, "it wouldn't be worth it, if there wasn't a little risk involved, don't you agree?"

He takes a long swig from his cocktail, keeping his eyes on Sansa, studying the frown on her face. "You know," he muses, "I think every person we meet in our lives has a purpose. Perhaps the role this Ygritte was meant to play in Jon's life has always been to lead him to you?"

He raises his glass to her and the romantic in Sansa can't help but smile at him and copy his gesture.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is looking forward to a quiet night in, but she's in for a surprise...

**Sansa**

Sansa closes her laptop and unwinds her hair from the high ponytail it has been in all day. She's been in Sunspear for over two weeks now and she's been enjoying herself. Her novel is coming along really well and she's been keeping herself busy enough to keep her thoughts from wandering to Jon too much.

The city is vibrant, exciting and colourful and Loras and Oberyn have been perfect hosts, showing her around all the best places only the locals know and practically dragging her along to all the parties and other social events in Sunspear.

Or at least, Oberyn does. Sansa doesn't think Loras really minds her company and he's always kind and polite, even a little overprotective on a couple occasions, but sometimes she feels as if he really is only doing Margaery a favour by letting her stay with him. She decides not to let it bother her.

The only thing that does bother her is her sleepless nights. At first she tries to blame it on the weather, but it's autumn, which means it can't be warmer than King's Landing in summer. The true reason she can't sleep at night, is because she can't stop thinking about Jon, and even when she does manage to doze off, he's in all of her dreams.

It has come to the point where she's too tired to chastise herself over it. Loras and Oberyn have invited her to the opening of a new rooftop bar, but she's in desperate need of some alone time, so she's decided to skip tonight. She's going to eat a simple tuna salad and drink a glass of white wine, maybe watch a silly romantic comedy and have an early night.

As she steps into Oberyn's living room, she's surprised to see light out on the porch.  _I thought they'd be over at Arianne's by now._ When she pushes down the doorhandle to the backyard, she can see that it is filled with many dozens of candles and she hopes she's not interrupting anything.

She walks into the garden, glancing around, looking for a clue. There's movement behind her and she turns around, staring straight into Jon's cautiously smiling face. "Sansa," he whispers.

Her lips part in surprise and her breath gets stuck in her throat, as that cursed heart tries to jump out of her chest. After several attempts she manages to choke out: "What are you doing here?"

For a moment uncertainty flashes in his eyes and he purses his lips, but then he takes a deep breath and simply says: "I missed you."

She licks her lips. "I missed you too."

 

**Jon**

Jon is not sure how they ended up here. He wanted to talk to Sansa, but he couldn't find the words. For a couple of minutes, they stared at each other in silence, unsure how to proceed. Suddenly she was in his arms and he felt relief wash over him.

At some point he rested his forehead against hers and their noses bumped together. Their lips met and their kiss grew hungrier as they clung to each other in desperate attempts to get closer.

Now he's shirtless and down to his boxers, lying on his back on a picnic blanket in Oberyn Martell's backyard and Sansa is on her hands and knees, grinding her cunt against his face. He can feel another peak coming, so he grabs her hips to keep her movements steady as he suckles at her clit and before long she's soaking his face again, breathlessly whimpering his name.

He decides to give her some rest, so he pulls her down until she's lying on his chest. "Hush now, sweetheart," he whispers. She looks so innocent and vulnerable, despite her flushed cheeks and mussed hair and wild eyes. He wraps his arms around her to hold her tight and tries to ignore his aching cock.

Jon rolls them over so they're on their sides, facing each other. She kisses him, pulling him on top of her and he lets her, even though he knows where this is leading.  _We shouldn't be doing this right now._ She opens her legs and he's pressed against her hot, wet core. He can't decide whether the thin fabric of his boxers is too little or too much of a barrier between them.

More importantly, Sansa is still wearing her top and if this is happening, he wants to feel and see all of her. He pulls back until he's kneeling between her thighs and leans over her so he can keep kissing her while he unbuttons her blouse. When he's down to the last button and slides his hands up her belly, marveling in the feeling of her soft skin, her breath hitches.

He releases her lips to see panic flickering in her eyes. Her hands close over his wrists before she uses them to cover the skin between her breasts. His brow furrows. "What's wrong?"

She shivers and swallows. "Sc-scar," she chokes out.

Slowly and gently, keeping his eyes on hers the entire time, he peels her hands away from her body and kisses both of her palms. He lets one hand glide to her back to unclasp her bra and helps her out of her last pieces of clothing. He presses a soft kiss to her lips before pulling back to look at her.

"This is what you've been worried about all this time?"

It's true. There is a long and clearly visible scar running from her sternum to a point a couple of inches under her bosom and a voice in his head starts telling him:  _That's where-_ But a firmer voice stops him _: No!_

He's quickly distracted by the perfect curves of her milky white breasts. Her chest is heaving and her rosy nipples start to pebble under the light sea breeze. The sight makes him gasp.

"I know," she whispers, "it's hideous."

He curses himself mentally for not keeping better control over his reactions when he sees the look in her eyes, but it's hard to think with his cock throbbing and already leaking. He plants his left forearm next to her head so he can lean over her and stroke her hair with his right hand.

"I'm sorry," he tries to soothe her, "I was just a little surprised. You have the most gorgeous tits I've ever seen."

The blush that appears on her cheeks and neck and creeps further down is so lovely he dips his head down to devour her lips, groaning. He works his way down the line of her jaw, paying attention to her earlobe and neck before he can focus on the area he hasn't explored before.

As Jon peppers her collarbones with soft kisses, lightly grazing his teeth over it, she wraps her arms around his shoulders. He wants to suck on those enticing nipples, but he decides to do something else first. When he places a chaste kiss on her sternum, she freezes under him, but he swirls his tongue down the length of her scar and she relaxes again.

When he closes his mouth over her right nipple, she mewls and arches her back, digging her fingernails into the skin of his back. He chuckles. "Ssshh, sweetheart, I don't want the entire neighbourhood to share in this. I'd like to keep you all for myself."

He takes his time, kissing and licking and sucking at her breasts, but Sansa wraps her legs around his hips and rubs her centre against his rock-hard length, soaking his boxers.  _Fuck, Sansa! I don't want this to be over before I'm inside you._

"Please, Jon, I need you," she whimpers, so he rolls off her to pull down his boxers and reach over to where he's shed his trousers. When she sees him tear open the foil, she frowns at him. "You brought a condom?"

He offers her a sheepish smile as he positions himself at her entrance. "Oberyn gave me a couple."

"Bless him," she cries out as Jon slowly sinks into her. Her wet heat grips at his cock and his eyes flutter closed. "Fuck, you feel good! How is it even possible that you feel so good?"

He opens his eyes again to take in the sight before him as he starts moving in long slow strokes, hands on either side of her waist. He thrusts a little harder so he can see her breasts bounce up and down and catches Sansa averting her eyes. Her hands are balled into fists by her side.

He stills and coaxes her fists open to lace his fingers through hers. "What is it?"

She bites her lip. "I'm sorry, it's just- I can't relax with you staring at my chest like that."

He tries not to let his disappointment show on his face. "I happen to like staring at your chest."

A small smile appears on her lips, but he can see she's not convinced. He pulls out of her and grabs her hips to turn her over, drawing a yelp from her throat. He drags her hips back until she's sitting in between his legs and enters her again, a little more roughly now he knows how easily he can slip in.

He bends over to press his cheek to her shoulder and whisper in her ear as he slowly pulls in and out of her. "Alright then, but you're going to have to make it up to me by coming on my cock!"

He pulls her up into a sitting position, so her back is against his chest and he can bury his face in her hair. He cups her tits and kneads them, pinching her nipples.  _If I can't look at them, at least I can touch them._

After a minute or so they settle into a rhythm and he can quickly feel her cunt tightening around him. He starts chanting her name. "Sansa, Sansa, Sansa. Come on, sweetheart, come for me!"

Her moans are growing louder and the neighbours can probably hear them now, but he's past caring. _Fuck what I said earlier, let them all know you're mine!_ His left hand leaves her breasts to run up her throat and back down. Her walls flutter around his cock and he clenches his teeth to keep from following immediately after.

He's sure he can make her come again. He cups her jaw and traces her lips with a finger. To his surprise she sucks it into her mouth and at the same time she angles her feet just so his balls graze over her heels with every thrust, making the pressure in them rise to its peak in mere seconds.

His orgasm pulses through his body so hard he has to close his eyes from the sheer force of it. His grunt is probably even louder than her cries, but the public, physical declaration of their love only intensifies his pleasure.

Minutes later they're lying together, huddled under more blankets and they're coming back to their senses. Jon doesn't want to be the one to break the spell. He's trying to stretch this pleasant buzz, while in the back of his mind he already knows it can't last.

He kisses the tip of Sansa's nose, pleading with his eyes for her not to ask the question, but she does anyway. "Where do we go from here?"

He can only hold her more tightly and whisper: "I don't know."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon need to decide whether they want a future together after their passionate reunion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the final chapter.
> 
> I decided to add some Kit details to my Jon here because I thought they would fit nicely into the story. You'll see what I mean when you read the chapter.

**Jon**

Somehow they've managed to fall asleep and Jon is resurfacing from his slumber as Sansa is trying to disentangle herself from his embrace. "Where are you going?" he mumbles sleepily, tightening his arms around her.

"I'm hungry!" she objects, and he lets her go. He sits up to watch her before he decides to follow her. He didn't notice before, but there is a small fridge on the porch and next to it is a cupboard with plates and cutlery and such.

"I like this house," he comments and Sansa chuckles as she puts a bowl of pasta salad and two plates and forks on the table. "Would you like some wine?"

He nods and she pours two glasses of white. It's colder now and she's shivering. His cock stirs at the sight of her hardened nipples, but his stomach is grumbling as well, so he tears his eyes away from her breasts and drapes a blanket over her shoulders. 

"You were staring again," she accuses him.

"Well," he starts, not sure what he's going to say, "you've been hiding those for a very long time. Who knows when I'll get to see them again."

She blushes and grins at him, letting the blanket fall a little looser around her shoulders. His eyes are drawn to the scar. "Does it hurt?"

She shrugs, holding her blanket with one hand as she takes a bite of pasta. "Not anymore. I don't remember much about those first few weeks after the surgery. The first... year was... difficult, but I knew I was going to get better..."

She pauses to eat some more and shakes her head, putting her fork down. "The last two years before... I was alive, but that was it. I was hardly allowed to do anything at all anymore... Nearly everything was too dangerous for my heart."

Jon reaches out to take her hand and smiles at her. "But you made it through all of that. And you have the battle scar to show for it."

She laughs at his lame joke, but then stops abruptly, biting her lip. "So it... it doesn't bother you?"

A sound of incomprehension escapes from his lips and he frowns at her. "Huh? What?" he asks as he catches her trying to blink away a tear. He squeezes her hand, eager to comfort her, even if he's not sure why or what he should do. Her face tells him she's trying to find the right words, so he tries to focus on his food to allow her some time.

She takes a deep breath. "It's just that Harry used to say... My ex," she clarfies when she sees the confusion in his eyes. "Well, he used to say it was such a shame I couldn't wear cleavage anymore because of it and..."

He's on his feet, pulling her up and into his arms. He looks her in the eyes and clenches his teeth, forcing out the words: "He sounds like a real prick."

She nods. "He was," she sighs. Her fingers are playing with the hair on his chest and he closes his eyes, enjoying her touch. "It disgusted him," she continues, "couldn't bare to look at it when we... So he always wanted to take me from behind."

His eyes fly open. _Fuck!_ "I'm so sorry, Sansa. I didn't realize... Why didn't you say anything?"

She cups his cheek and smiles, shaking her head. "No, you didn't... It wasn't like that with you. You made me feel beautiful and wanted."

He leans in to kiss her. "You are. And I do. Want you, I mean."

"I think I can tell," she answers, barely containing a giggle; Her eyes travel down to where his cock is hardening against her belly. When she glances back up at him, she bites her lips and there is heat in her eyes.

***

Jon watches Sansa swimming toward him, mesmerized by her long limbs gliding smoothly through the water, her hair fanning out over the surface of the pool, her blue eyes bright even in the dark, framed by dark, wet lashes.

She reaches him and presses her body close to his, nuzzling her face into his neck as he holds her close. She pulls back to capture his lips in a slow, lazy kiss. They don't part, he just hums against her lips and closes his eyes, framing her face in his hands. "I'm curious," he admits, "was any of this on your list?"

A peal of laughter escapes from her mouth as she pulls back to study his face. "And what exactly are you referring to? The candle-lit reception? The passionate reunion? Making love under the stars? Or the skinny-dipping?" she adds, probably in an attempt to keept things light.

"Pick one," he challenges her. 

She bites her lip, her arms tightening around his neck. "No to the latter two," she says, sinking deeper into the water, releasing him. "I've never been the outdoorsy type and I'm afraid I'm a bit of a prude."

He rolls his eyes, chuckling. There is no way her last statement could ever be mistaken as truthful. "They would have made it onto my list, if I had one. What about...?"

"I wished," she starts, "part of me wanted you to come here looking for me, but I couldn't allow myself to hope. I didn't want to believe you'd actually do that. Marg said you might, but-"

"Oh! he exclaims, causing Sansa to look at him in surprise. He leans back, shaking his head. "That's why she was gloating when I asked her for the meds?"

Her frown deepens and Jon hopes it dark enough for her not to see him blushing in embarassment, but he betrays himself by nervously rubbing the back of his neck. "I asked her for something to help with my anxiety. You see, I- the only safe and affordable way to get to Sunspear without spending weeks on a boat is flying."

She arches an eyebrow, still not understanding. He lowers his eyes. "It was more than seven years since I'd been on an a plane," he explains, risking a glance at her face. "I don't like planes. I reckoned pills were better than alcohol."

She slides her hands up his chest, smirking at him. "You're afraid of flying?"

He grabs her waist with one hand to tickle her with the other. "Are you mocking me?"

Her face softens and her eyes hold his as she brushes some curls from his forehead. "So I suppose that means you'll be staying here for a while?"

There's uncertainty in her voice and he answers without thinking. "I'm afraid we'll have to stay here forever."

After a moment of hesitation a smile lights up her face and she leans in for another kiss.

 

**Sansa**

Jon makes good on his promise to stay in Sunspear and they truly enjoy their time together. Sansa shows him around the city and they visit some of the tourist attractions. Sometimes they are joined by Loras and Oberyn and their friends, more often it's just the two of them.

They go out for dinner and long walks along the beach or the seaside promenade, but they spend nearly as much time in the privacy of Jon's hotel room. Sansa can't deny that all the hours of Jon worshipping her body are a balm to the wounds Harry and some of the other have inflicted on her confidence.

Jon spoils her with his love outside the bedroom as well and Sansa begins to fear she'll never be able to be happy with someone else. After him, being with anyone else would feel like settling, it could never be enough. Sometimes she allows herself to believe she won't have to, but they still haven't addressed the elephant in the room.

Sansa knows they both fear it's an obstacle they might not be able to overcome, so they try to ignore it for as long as possible, but she's aware they cannot put it off forever. Maybe she's a coward, but she doesn't want to be the one to burst their bubble, afraid as she is Jon may feel she's forcing him into a decision.

It's irrational and ridiculous, as the both of them will have to make up their minds about their future sooner or later and dancing around it isn't going to make things easier. Still she's surprised Jon is the one to bring it up during one of their evening walks. "I've been thinking," he informs her. "I want to tell you about Ygritte."

Sansa takes a deep breath to keep her face blank.  _This is good. We need this. It can't be real if we keep ignoring this,_ she tries to assure herself, but she doesn't think she's ready to hear Jon talk about the woman he loved so much. In a small voice, she asks him: "What if I don't want to hear about her?"

He almost succeeds in hiding his reaction from her, but she doesn't miss the shadow passing over his face. "She was an important part of my life. I'd like you to understand."

 _He's right._ So she nods and as they continue their walk, Jon begins his story. He tells her about the night he met Ygritte, about their rollercoaster romance and her proposal and their wedding. She can't really describe the odd feeling hearing all of this gives her, but she decides to ignore it for now and even encourages him with some polite questions.

"Where did you go on your honeymoon?" she asks as they turn onto the pier at the end of the promenade.

His lips part and he hesitates for a moment. "We didn't go anywhere. Ygritte booked tickets, but she ended up going to the Summer Isles by herself. She'd always wanted to go there."

She frowns at him. "How did she end up going alone?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," he explains, "but when we arrived at the airport, I panicked. The idea of spending more than six hours on a plane was too much. She reckoned neither of us going would be a waste of the money she'd already spent so she got on the plane by herself."

Sansa averts her eyes from Jon's flushed face to hide her smug smile. For a couple of minutes all she can think is:  _She couldn't get him on a plane, but he flew all the way out here just for a chance to see me._

Ygritte sounds bold, fun and daring and nothing like her, but Sansa can't help but wonder how Jon managed to put up with her impulsive decisions and selfish behaviour. She tries to keep an open mind, worried she might not be unbiased about Ygritte.

Still everything Jon tells her only leads her to one conclusion: to Ygritte the most important person during her marriage to Jon was Ygritte herself. Jon's devotion confuses her. She cannot understand how he could love someone who obviously cared so little about him.

 _Pots and kettles,_ a small voice in the back of her head points out. It's true, she's not exactly in a position to judge. For too long she was too blind to accept the truth behind Harry's disrespectful and self-centred behaviour. 

When Jon tells her about Ygritte serving him divorce papers, she cannot control her surprised gasp. She clasps a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry," she mumbles. "I wasn't expecting that. I don't understand. Why...?"

She lets her questions trail off, sure he's got the gist of it. They've reached the end of the pier and Jon is grasping the railing, pursing his lips, deep in thought. "I know it's hard to understand, but... for the longest time I kept believing that if she hadn't died, things still might have worked out between us. And it wasn't just that."

He stays silent for a long time, before taking a deep breath. "I was afraid that I made the wrong decision by giving her heart away."

 _Oh._ "Well, I beg to differ," she starts angrily, until she sees the look on his face. "Jon... That decision gave me a second chance. I'm alive because of you and I realize now that I haven't even thanked you for it. I-"

"Sansa, you don't have to..." he tries to brush it off, but she stops him with a hand on his arm.

"I do. I know too many people wouldn't be able to make that decision and you did and that alone is proof enough of how good and brave and strong you are."

She blushes at the sincerity of her words and so does he. "So I don't understand why you would think it was the wrong decision."

He nods. "That's what I was trying to explain. I was afraid it was not what she would have wanted and I... If I admitted that we were over long before she died, I would have to face the truth. I'd also have to admit to myself I had no right to make that decision for her and that she might hate me for it."

Sansa doesn't know how to object to that, because she can't deny anything he's said.  _How do you live with all of that?_ She just watches how his agonized face slowly shifts into a determined expression as he turns to face her. "But I can't do it anymore, Sansa. I can't bring it up to regret my decision any longer." 

Her lips part in surprise. He shakes his head and his eyes are glittering.

"Please, don't say anything. I don't think I'll ever be able to find the words if you stop me now. I don't regret making that decision, because if I hadn't, chances are I never would have met you. I know it's probably selfish, but quite frankly I don't care anymore. I still miss her and maybe part of me will always miss her, but I want you, Sansa. You're so fucking amazing and you give me everything I didn't even know I needed... I- I can't wrap my head around it, but I don't think I could live without you anymore. I love you, Sansa."

She's forgotten how to breathe. She's not even sure where they are or who she is anymore. She'd dreamed about such declarations of love once, a very long time ago, before she'd dismissed them as something that only happened in fiction, but here they are, and there he is and she can't deny it any longer. She believes him and she'll never want anyone else.

She looks up at him. He's panting, apparently still stunned by his own words, and searching her face expectantly. "And I love you, Jon," she whispers, her voice barely audible, but he must have heard, for he gathers her in his arms, crushing their lips together with more passion than she's ever experienced in any one kiss.

Their lips move together as her hands fist themselves into his curls. She can feel the warmth of his embrace all around her body, his hands firm and solid on her back. Tears are streaming down her face, but she doesn't care, because they're together, truly together now. 

When they finally part, Sansa has to grip the railing for support. After a couple of minutes her eyes are drawn to his suddenly closed fist. He opens it, palm up and in it is the necklace carrying his wedding ring. Her face starts pulling into a frown, but then she realizes what he's planning to do.

"No!" she yells at him, releasing the railing as if to stop him physically and he looks up at her in surprise. She takes a deep breath. "I- You don't have to do that for me."

He studies her face as she tries to smile at him. It's not a lie. She doesn't want him to throw away his wedding ring for her, not really. That would be cruel and selfish. Yet she has to admit that part of her likes the idea; more than that, part of her needs him to do it. But she cannot ask him to, she won't.

For a while Jon doesn't answer, a sad smile on his face, but his eyes are warm and completely focused on hers and she almost pulls away from his gaze. Finally he just nods and sighs. "It's not just about you, Sansa. I need to do this for me."

She tilts her head slightly, trying not to betray any emotion, lest it might influence his decision. He turns to the railing and she follows his example. He stretches his arm out, fist closed again. She's so close to him she can feel he's holding his breath and she looks up at his face when she hears it escaping from his lips in a huff of surprise. She turns her eyes back to his now empty palm. As they both watch the ring and chain disappear, carried away and swallowed by the waves, Jon takes her hand and it feels like home.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and for all the kudos and comments! I loved writing this story and I hope you enjoyed reading it!
> 
> I suppose I easily could have added another five or ten chapters, culminating in a wedding or something, but I like this ending. It's just a glimpse of what's to come and I think you can fill that in using your own imagination.


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